The Ghost King
by dirksies
Summary: Future fic. Fours years after TLO, Nico stumbles into a little town and meets a very familiar face. Then things get weird even for a demigod, Nico finds his powers changing and soon he has to fight Fate itself. Chapter 19 is up! No romance. Does not follow Heroes of Olympus storyline. This story is Ghost Writers Approved.
1. Rain Drops Keep Fallin' on My Head

A/N: A short little one-shot I came up with that may become longer if it's liked. This is set four years after TLO and everyone is growing up and growing apart, however Nico is still just wandering. Read and review please, especially if you want me to add to this!

Disclaimer: Not mine!

The Ghost King

I stepped out of the shadows, moving smoothly from one place to another. My ADHD mind flicked to the fact that it had once been much more difficult for me to travel like this, but now a days, I was used to it. Well, after six years of almost constant travel, I was bound to build up some kind of resistance.

The rain lightly pattered around me as I joined the few pedestrians that dared the weather, emerging from my shadowed alley into the dark twilight. Streetlamps and restaurant signs glittered off the wet pavement as I moved along. No one much looked at each other, which was okay by me, too busy hiding under umbrellas or yesterday's newspaper. _Hmm, this doesn't look like New Orleans, where am I?_

I stopped in front of a sign and snorted. It was your average city marker, or in this case, town marker, listing the size of the town, any points of interest, and, of course, the name, Normal. _Of all the places to find myself… it's been awhile since the shadows dropped me someplace I actually hadn't intended to go._ Someone was seriously messing with me. Why would I, of all people, end up someplace called "Normal"?

Shrugging my shoulders, I turned away from the sign, looking across the little downtown that I had stumbled upon. _Nothing like sightseeing, at least for a little while_. The neon signs of some small bars promised alcohol and 24/7 Cubs baseball. _Probably somewhere in Illinois,_ I decided. A Children's Discovery Museum was across the street from me, but the lights were out. It was too late for kids to be out, or too early. I sighed and began to walk, not entirely sure where I was heading and not particularly caring. I had nowhere to be and nobody was waiting for me.

I've been a loner for awhile, ever since my sister Bianca died six and a half years ago. I like it this way. I mean, things have improved slightly. I've been included at Camp Half-Blood and I've spent my summers there ever since Percy Jackson made the gods promise everyone should be included. But during the rest of the year, I prefer to wander. It's been…educational.

Perhaps I should back up. My name is Nico di Angelo, and I'm a half-blood, or demigod, they're pretty much the same thing.

"But demigods?" you splutter. "That's like in legends and Disney movies."

"Yep," I would tell you. "But don't mention the Disney movie part to some of the more up and ups, they're still sore about it. _Especially_ to my dad."

My dad? Oh yeah, he's Hades, and no, his hair is not blue fire. If you know your Greek mythology, your _actual_ Greek mythology, then you've got a pretty good idea what a demigod's life is like; one bucket of suck after another, and if you're very lucky, you don't die.

Of course, things have settled down a bit since Kronos was defeated. A lot of the more disruptive monsters have been lying low for the past four years, which has been nice on us older kids, but has been driving some of the younger campers up the wall.

I rolled my eyes as I splashed down the street. The rain was getting heavier now and thunder was rolling in the distance. I remembered the most recent antics of the Hermes cabin. It was smaller than it had been in previous years, now that more children were being determined, but it still packed a punch, especially when one of the minor god or goddess cabins got involves, like in this case, Hecate.

In end of summer spirits, one of the Hermes counselors had started to tell a really creepy ghost story around the last campfire. I mean, my dad's the Lord of the Dead, and it was creepy. The basic premise of it was that there was an evil goddess who tortured souls that weren't quick enough about reaching the Underworld. Of course none of it was true, but it reminded me too much of Melinoe and sent a shiver down my spine.

Once the counselor reached the freakiest part, before the goddess grabbed the poor soul, a bunch of the Hermes kids, aided by Hecate magic to look like tortured souls, jumped out from behind the campfire circle, whooping and wailing like banshees as everyone screamed. Looking back on it, I wondered why we hadn't noticed the missing campers, it was always a good idea to keep an eye on Hermes kids, but at the time I just jumped and turned, reaching for my Stygian ice blade that wasn't at my hip. At any other time, this would have been a bad thing (it was in my cabin on my bed), but as it was, it was a good thing I didn't have it, I might have accidently skewered someone.

I stood tense for a minute before sighing and letting out a half-hearted chuckle, finally catching on to what had happened. Everyone else was slowly realizing this as well, and either laughed good naturedly or complained, some doing both. The Ares kids vowed revenge and Chiron sent us off to bed with the traditional end of summer reminder to get out of our cabins before the cleaning harpies arrived.

I wandered back to my cabin, still empty even though the pact of the Big Three was over. Either my dad hadn't had any more kids, or they weren't old enough to need training. I flopped onto my bed in the Hades cabin, relishing in the only place I felt at home. Sure, I could stay year round at Camp Half-Blood, but I don't think I could stay cooped up like that. I had tasted independence when I was 10 and wandering the world, practicing my powers. I don't think I'd ever be able to stay in one place for a long time ever again. Not to mention all the half-bloods that had become my close friends had graduated two years ago.

It was kind of an unspoken tradition that once (if) a camper reached college age, they graduated from Camp Half-Blood. They could come back to visit but they were no longer campers. I had seen the Stoll brothers, Annabeth, and some of the others around, but it just wasn't the same without them there. It was hard to make friends when you spent more time with dead people than live ones. But that was 2 weeks ago since summer ended and I'd left Camp Half-Blood for the year.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" asked a voice, jolting me out of my reminiscing. On the street next to me was a police car. The passenger's side window was rolled down and a cop was leaning across the passenger seat, peering suspiciously at me.

I realized my appearance probably wouldn't help any plea of innocence I might have. I wore a long dark trench coat, having outgrown my aviator's jacket awhile ago. Underneath my trench coat, I wore a grungy t-shirt for some rock band I had never heard, nothing like freebies. My jeans and sneakers were in no better shape, and my beat up backpack slung over one shoulder was more duct tape then fabric. I was tall and thin, towering over a lot of people I knew, and my dark hair nearly brushed my shoulders.

I bit back the traditional response "I didn't do anything!" and simply stuttered, "Uh, well, you see." Normally I was much better at making up stories at a moment's notice. It was a skill any demigod developed; it helped keep the mortals at ease. My mind scrambled for a lie, but all it could think about was the Stygian ice blade that rested against my thigh, hidden by my trench coat.

"Nico? What are you doing out here?" said a familiar voice. I whipped around, hardly believing my ears.

"Percy?" I said. He looked different than when I had seen him last, about two years ago. He looked definitely older now (duh), and taller. His hair was still wild and kinda long for a guy, but I knew it didn't compare to mine, so I guess I wasn't much of a judge. And, of course, his iconic sea green eyes shone in the gloom as the storm finally arrived.

He grinned at me and walked forward, resting a familiar hand on my shoulder. "I told you, Nico, the supermarket was just down the street to the left. You must have taken a wrong turn right out the door, though how you got lost in Normal is beyond me." That's Percy, Master BS-er. He must have gotten lessons from Annabeth.

The police officer grunted like he wasn't fully convinced.

Percy adopted a somewhat apologetic expression and quietly snapped his fingers. "I'm sorry, officer. I'll keep better track of my cousin."

"Cousin, eh?" said the officer, settling back into the driver's seat, like that answer solved everything.

"Yes, officer."

"Well I better not see you two out again. You may both be college students, but you still have curfew," he said, and he drove away, rolling up his window as he went.

College student? I knew I looked old for my age (16), but I also knew I didn't look like I was in college. Unless…

"Chiron finally taught you how to manipulate the Mist?" I asked, feeling slightly jealous, as we both began to walk down the street. I was now sopping wet.

"Yep," he said cheerfully, swinging his right arm that I now realized carried a grocery bag as he walked. "Taught me right before I left. So, what brings you to Normal?"

"I could ask you the same question," I retorted. "I thought you were going to some little nowhere town to—oOoh."

"To get my teaching degree," finished Percy. "Back to my question."

"I don't really know," I said. "I was shadow traveling to New Orleans, and I just stepped out here."

Percy frowned slightly and then shot me a questioning look.

"No, it's been awhile since I've gone where I didn't want to go," I said, guessing the silent question he was asking.

Percy sighed. "Well, as long as Thalia doesn't show up, we should be fine." He offered a smile.

I nodded, hoping again that this was just a mistake and not someone messing with me. If I was very lucky, that would be the case. "Well, at any rate," I said, "it's good seeing you."

"You too," said Percy. "Everything's been quiet at camp?"

"Yeah, monster-wise," I said, "but, you know, it's camp, never too quiet. What about here?"

"It's been really quiet here," said Percy, brow furrowing slightly as a bolt of lightning flashed overhead followed by a quake of thunder. "Mostly I see the smaller monsters and when they see me, they always bolt."

"Well, you did have a hand in killing Kronos," I tried reasoning, even though I knew that couldn't be right. A scent of one of the Big Three kids was like a monster magnet. Even though it had been relatively quiet, I still had a monster run-in about once a month.

Percy shrugged like he didn't believe what I said either. "I guess I'm just worried about getting out of practice."

A thunderbolt struck suspiciously close to where Percy and I were walking, hitting a tall oak tree, severing it down the middle. The air smelled like ozone as I tried to blink the spots from my eyes. It felt like my eyebrows had been fried off.

"Have you done anything to upset a certain lightening wielding god?" I asked when I could finally talk.

Percy stared stunned at the tree and then shook his head. "Let's get to my dorm room," he muttered grabbing my shoulder and yanking me down the street at almost a sprint.

Percy raised his dry protection on himself right before he walked in his dorm. In an instant he was as wet as I was. He muttered something about his roommate getting suspicious before we wandered into the dorm.

"Welcome to Watterson Towers, one of the tallest residence halls in the United States," he said to me as we stopped in the lobby to dry off a bit.

"Oh," I said, trying to look interested, "_fascinating."_

Percy laughed. "Yeah, that was basically my reaction. I'm on the first floor, fortunately, I didn't want to give Zeus any excuse to fry this place."

A crack of thunder rocked the building and we both looked at each other wide-eyed before heading toward a stairwell to Percy's room. Even though he was technically on the "first floor", he still had to go up a flight of stairs to get to his residence hall. Go figure.

Knocking on his door, he then opened it, revealing a room that was only slightly messier than the Poseidon cabin had been when Percy had lived there. Piles of dirty clothes surrounded unmade beds, food wrappers overflowed a garbage can, and in the middle of it all, sat one of the most typical college age guys I have ever seen. He was clearly not a demigod.

He wore a black t-shirt advertising for some technology company I had never heard before over a pair of faded jeans. His stocking feet were crossed beneath him as he gazed intently at the TV before him, wildly firing at a couple of attacking zombies.

"You got the goods?" he asked without looking at us, bespeckled eyes not leaving the TV screen.

"Yep," said Percy, finally revealing what he had gotten in the grocery store: a multi-pack of Ramen, a box of chocolate-chip sundae Poptarts, and Mountain Dew Game Fuel—the basic demigod/college student food of choice.

Percy's roommate grunted and I knew that nothing short of the apocalypse or an attractive, eligible young woman would distract him from his game. Percy sighed, putting a can of Game Fuel within his roommate's reach before settling on his bed, clearing off enough dirty clothes on his roommate's bed to leave a spot for me to sit. I sat down, facing Percy across the narrow room.

"Brandon is a business major," he said, making random small talk. Apparently Brandon was deep enough into his game that he didn't care if we talked, though Percy lowered his voice slightly. "He's cool and he can get all these free computer upgrades from his work, it's just…" His voice trailed off.

"It's not like the old days?" I tried, not meeting Percy's eyes.

"Yeah." Percy sighed, leaning against the wall. I noticed that even though I was still dripping wet, Percy was dry again. Why couldn't Hades have useful powers like that? No offense, dad.

"Have you seen anybody from camp since you left?" I asked when the silence got too long and quiet.

"I haven't been back to camp in two years, what with school and a summer job. I haven't even been to the ocean," said Percy, sighing and shaking his head. "I keep in touch with Annabeth and Grover, when I can, he's still traveling, but you're the first I've actually seen."

I nodded. Looking at Percy now, I realized how restless he was. I knew just sitting here in this room was driving me nuts as zombies screamed on the TV and guns fired. Being constantly ready for fights for two and a half years had made its mark on me, and that was four years ago. I knew Percy must be feeling it too, but probably a lot worse.

What are demigods supposed to do when everything settles back down? When they grow up? Try to be normal? How do you _do_ normal? _Well, I guess living in Normal is a good start_, I thought wryly.

"So, are you headed anywhere?" asked Percy. The silence had gotten long again.

"Nowhere in particular," I said, trying to sound off-handed, but I noticed Percy frown. "I like wandering," I tried to justify. "I don't think I'd be able to just settle for a year. Besides, it's not like I have a family to go to."

He winced. "What about your future, Nico?" asked Percy. "You know, later on, beyond this," he said, gesturing vaguely around his dorm room. It was kinda nice when Percy treated me like he was my older brother, but also completely irritating. "I know it's weird to think about, but you're growing up. You're going to have to get a job and make a living.

"Thanks, Chiron," I said sarcastically, "I've already heard this sermon." I grimaced. I hadn't had any formal schooling since before WWII and I don't even remember it now. I still knew how to read and do basic math, though my dyslexia made reading a pain, and I was too far behind to start now.

Percy made a face and I sighed. "I don't know what I'm going to do," I admitted quietly.

"Well," said Percy, brightening with an idea, "for starters, why don't you spend the night? I've got a sleeping bag somewhere you could borrow if you want."

I looked at Percy and then my eyes slid to the door. It would be nice to not have to sleep in a graveyard or some abandoned hotel. I didn't really have anywhere to go, but I still felt reluctant.

"Won't you get in trouble with the school for having me spend the night?" I asked, fishing for an excuse more than anything.

"Nope, school don't notice nothing," said Brandon startling me, I'd almost forgotten he was there. After firing his gun one more time, he shut off the game, standing and stretching in the same motion. "If you two are done talking, I'm gonna go to bed." And he walked out of the room, zombie-like himself, and down the hall, grabbing his tooth brush and tooth paste before heading to the communal bathroom.

I looked at the clock. It was 3:30 am, definitely time to be getting to bed. One more thing was bothering me, though.

"How much does he know?" I asked, sliding off Brandon's bed and moving over to Percy who had begun to rummage through piles of clothes, looking for his spare sleeping bag.

"Nothing, as far as I know," Percy replied, digging through a particularly foul pile of underwear. I decided that this room was going to be declared a biohazard sooner or later and refrained from helping him. "I think he knows something's different about me, but he doesn't pry, pretty much minds his own business. Maybe he just assumes it's 'cause I'm from New York," he quipped, flashing me a cheeky smile before returning back to his search. "I take it this means you're staying."

"For the night," I said, trying to feel like I still had some control over the situation.

Percy just nodded, still smiling, and slung the sleeping bag over to me, gesturing to a space of miraculously clear floor for me to lie down on, tossing me an extra pillow before he slumped onto his bed, for all intents and purposes falling asleep in an instant.

I laid out the sleeping bag in the clear space, kicking off my shoes and leaving my trench coat in a pile before sliding into it. I inhaled deeply, settling in to the sleeping bag and gagged. It would be my luck that the bag had been under the pile of toxic waste underwear.


	2. Splish Splash

A/N: Not mine!

I woke up with a start, feeling like someone was watching me. Thrashing around briefly in the sleeping bag that seemed to have been trying to strangle me in the night, I sat up and looked around the room, hands fidgeting for a weapon. Yes, I know I'm paranoid.

There, sitting on his bed, peering at me, eyes calculating, was Percy's roommate. _What was his name again?_ my tired mind scrambled as I offered the kid a hesitant wave, _Oh yeah, Brandon._

"Do you always wake up like that?" asked Brandon, a bored expression now on his face.

"Uh…," I said, mind still not quite figuring out it was time to wake up. "Yes?"

Brandon nodded and slid off his bed and over to his computer in one practiced motion. He had logged on and was fiercely typing away before I even thought to blink again. Really, I move that slowly in the morning. I hate mornings.

I flopped back down to the ground, glancing up and over to Percy's digital clock. The numbers did a little dance before they settled into something helpful: 10:30 am. Okay, well, technically _mid_-morning was the better phrase, but it still involved morning.

"So, where's Percy?" I asked after a pause, finally feeling I was ready to face the day, what was left of it.

"He had class at 8:30," said Brandon, not looking away from his computer. "He should be back soon."

I nodded and crawled out of my sleeping bag, looking at the piles on the floor for my backpack. _I know I left it _some_where._ After a couple minutes of shifting piles, I swept the floor with my eyes once more and frowned. It couldn't have gotten lost in one night, could it?

"You haven't….? I began, glancing up at Brandon and stopped. There was my backpack, neatly zipped up and hanging from the back of Brandon's computer chair.

"What?" said Brandon, looking over at me and realizing I was gaping at him.

I just pointed at the book bag, trying to keep any suspicion I felt off my face.

"Oh, yeah, sorry," said Brandon, slinging me the backpack and shrugging in the same motion. "I tripped over it walking around, you know. So I just got it out of the way."

I caught the backpack fighting the urge to rip it open and check to make sure he hadn't touched anything. "Thanks," I said when I noticed Brandon was still looking at me. He grunted a reply and turned back to his computer screen as I gave him a weird look. What was up with that guy?

I'm just going to go take a shower," I said, slinging the book bag over a shoulder. "Tell Percy I'll be right back," I added.

I walked down the hall, following the noise of flushing toilets to where the communal bathroom was. Taking a right when I faced the wall dividing the two sides of the bathroom from each other, I was lucky enough to find myself facing the line of showers. Lucky guess, but the water leaking from that side was something of a tip-off.

The floor was wet as I picked my way toward a shower at the end of the row, watching my footing to make sure I wouldn't slip. I walked into my chosen shower and closed the first shower curtain, separating myself from the bathroom at large and leaving me in a little changing area that held a small bench and a towel rack. The walls to the left and right ended at above my mid-calf –not much for privacy. The way in front of me held another curtain and the shower.

I set my backpack onto the bench and sighed, leaning tiredly against the wall as I worked the zipper of my book bag open with one hand. Rummaging through my stuff, I ran a quick mental checklist of all my stuff; cell phone –check, extra set of clothes –check, toothbrush/toothpaste –check and check, my journal –check, shower gear –check, extra money –check, my I.D. –check, the Hades figurine –check. Was that everything? I had run out of energy bars the night before last, I reminded myself, frowning down at the bag. _My knife!_ I thought, panicking briefly before patting my side. Good, I had slept with it on. There was always the off chance that I might stab myself while I slept, but I was willing to risk it to have a weapon nearby.

Letting my hand drop to my side, I looked up at the tiled ceiling. _I'm so paranoid_, I thought, laughing quietly to myself. But that still didn't explain what Brandon was doing with my bag. _Probably nothing_, I told myself angrily, hauling myself up right and pulling out the things I would need for a shower. _Maybe he _did_ just trip over it. Yeah right,_ I snorted, tugging out my towel and then digging for my soap. _He leaves piles of clothes all over the floor, not to mention Mt. Month-Old-Food-vius, but he picks up one backpack? I don't even think I left it in the way last night._ I sighed, shaking my head as I hung my towel from the towel rack and put my soap in the shower. What can I say, being by yourself for so long –you become your best conversation partner.

Shrugging off my clothes, I got into the shower, turning on the water and yelping slightly. It was cold! I pressed myself against the shower wall, waiting for the water to warm up. Even though I had been temporarily distracted from Brandon, my thoughts soon regrouped as the water began to warm. I eased myself back into its stream, allowing my hands to begin the process of cleaning myself as I refocused on the problem.

Nothing was missing from my bag, but it was just too weird that Brandon moved it. _Maybe he was just nosy_, I thought, humming tunelessly as the water steamed the air around me. If he was nosy, then wouldn't he have been listening in on our conversation last night? And if he was listening then what does he know? I hate all of these twisty what-ifs. That's stuff Athena kids like. I mean, my dad can have his diabolical moments, but that's more on the plotting end, not the figuring out end.

At any rate, I'm a half-blood and I have lived too long (thank the gods) to be careless now. I guess I'll just keep an eye on him, I thought, turning off the shower and reaching out to grab my towel. Briskly rubbing myself off, I stepped out of the shower still dripping slightly. _Well, keep your friends close and your enemies closer, I guess_, I mused, digging through my bag to pull out the "cleaner" set of clothes.

Working around my towel, I pulled the clothes on, revealing a shirt and pants that were pretty much the same as the ones I wore previously, only these smelled like backpack and toxic underwear instead of sleeping bag and toxic underwear. All together an improvement, I decided, checking to make sure I had everything before zipping up my backpack and putting it back on. Opening the second shower curtain, I stepped out into the bathroom at large, absentmindedly checking that my blade was in its sheath at my hip. Chiron had magicked it so the mortals wouldn't–

"Play time?" asked a strangely low voice. I almost had a heart attack.

Peering stupidly at me from the end of the shower hallway and blocking the only exit was, what I first thought, a sumo wrestler who had gotten lost. The thing before me was huge, body easily blocking the hallway and standing at least six feet tall. Its hair was a fine stubble and it offered a toothy grin. The only thing it wore was one very large white diaper with Little Billy written on its rim in big sloppy letter. _What on earth?_ I thought gaping stupidly back at it.

Then I saw its eyes, glowing red like hot coals with no pupils. That's not normal. "You gonna play?" It asked me, taking a few steps forward, floor shaking with each step.

"Uh, that depends," I said, plastering a smile on my face, hoping that this wasn't what I thought it was. "What game do you wanna play?"

"How about Du—," he said but stopped inhaling sharply. _Oh gods_, I thought as his face contorted. "Du—," he said again, voice slightly higher, face scrunched. _Please no._ "Du—!" he almost yelled, holding a finger up to his nose. _Why me?_ "Goose!" he yelled and sneezed.

A noise like a freight train echoed around the bathroom as my reflexes took over, dropping me to the floor. Blinking as I stared up at the giant in front of me, an unusual smell entered my nose. I sniffed looking up at the sumo in from of me. Why did it smell like something was burning? I slowly stood up and turned around to look behind me to see the wall quietly smoldering, a black ring coating the once white wall.

"Uh-oh, sorry," apologized the monster, giggling slightly. I turned back slowly to gape at him. This was most definitely not normal. I suppose that fact that it was over six feet tall, weighing roughly one ton, and only wearing a diaper should have probably been a good tip-off, but like I said earlier –mornings.

"That's quite a sneeze you've got there," I said, my voice coming out a little higher than I was used to.

"Hehe, yeah, mommy say I gots the sniffles," said the sumo mindlessly picking his bellybutton.

"Mommy?" I said weakly. I didn't think many monsters lived with their parents. So that must mean…this was a baby! A giant, fire-sneezing baby! Stranger things have happened. Ask me about it some other time and I'll tell you.

"So, we play now?" asked the monster kid, adopting something of a "puppy-dog" expression, red eyes going big, round, and watery.

"Uh, yeah, sure," I said, mind scrambling for a plan. "How about we play outside!" I said, springing on the idea as soon as I thought it. "They'll be lots of room to run around."

"Okay!" said the kid enthusiastically, offering me a hand the size of a stop sign. I stared at it before realizing that he wanted me to hold his hand as we walked. Hitching my book bag up higher on my shoulder, I set my hand in his, quickly praying to any god that was listening that he wouldn't crush it, and the two of us managed to leave the bathroom without the kid squishing me or anyone else.

* * *

Whew, so that's that. I know it's a filler, but there is more to come. The next chapter is sitting happily on my computer and the next three chapters are written and need to be typed. We'll see where this story takes us! Thank you to everyone who subscribed and reviewed and please do so again! Until next time =]


	3. Great Balls of Fire

A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed or subscribed! Keep them coming and I'll try to return the favor by updating more frequently. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Pas mien!

So that's how I wound up with a monster who looked like he could literally eat a cow and still come back for more walking through Illinois State University campus, half hoping to find Percy. I have no idea what the mortals saw through the Mist, but all they did was glance at the two of us then smile fondly. Don't ask me what that was about, I'm just glad Little Billy didn't sneeze again.

We had been walking for a little while when suddenly the kid's voice boomed out, startling a couple birds out of a nearby tree. "Playground!" Jerking me forward, he literally pulled me off of my feet and I trailed behind him, almost getting my arm yanked out of its socket. Little Billy had apparently seen the playground of the elementary/ middle school that was associated with the university. Percy only told me this later though, at the moment, I could only idly wonder what a playground was doing on a college campus as I did my best impression of a Nico kite.

The playground, situated next to a busy street and surrounded by a fence, held two swing sets, one with more basket-like seats for younger children, the other with just a strip of plastic. There was also a jungle gym and a giant slide. Tunnels and bridges connected everything to each other. It was your average elementary school playground, until Hurricane Little Billy landed that is.

Letting go of my hand once we reached the playground after plowing through part of the fence around the school yard, Little Billy's first victim was the swing set. For some odd reason, he chose the basket swing set, trying to smush his giant butt into the little swings. Rolls of fat oozing over the edge of the basket as he managed to fit one butt cheek in the swing, his legs did not even fit in the holes that the seat had, instead flopping over the top. His face, however, held a look of pure joy as he pumped his legs trying to get the swing going. I stared at him, feeling a mixture of disgust and amazement, this was one of strangest monster encounters I had ever had.

"Push me!" he cried after a few seconds of flailing his leg. The swing set let out a groan as I walked over behind him, trying to figure out how best to push the sumo wrestler kid. Giving an experimental shove, Little Billy barely moved, but the swing set creaked again, the sound of metal straining. I then began to push harder, trying to get the mass of monster to move, the swing set protesting each shove.

Finally I got a little frustrated with it. _Why was I even doing this?_ I asked myself, standing and panting.

"A-choo!" came Little Billy's voice and the jungle gym across the way was lit by a modestly sized fireball.

_Oh yeah, that's why, _I thought, fingering my knife as I warily watched the jungle gym, hoping that it wouldn't catch on fire. It didn't, apparently the fire wasn't hot enough to melt the metal, but it came out looking slightly crispy. _It's because I don't have the guts to just end this monster._ I scowled at the back of Little Billy's head as he giggled and clapped.

He then turned his head to look at me, grinning with a child-like innocence that only a baby monster could have. "Push me, push me!" he cried again, waving his arms.

Now _I_ felt like a monster. I couldn't just kill the guy. What could I do? "Alright, you want to be pushed?" I asked, taking a few steps backward. Well, giving him an actual push on the swing might help. Charging at Little Billy on the swing, I let out a battle cry –it felt appropriate at the time. I gave Little Billy a great push and finally set him swinging.

I dove out of the way as he came back down and watched from my position on the ground as Little Billy cheered happily. "Wheeeeeee!"

Suddenly the swing set shrieked, the bar that supported the swings had finally given up and snapped, a hollow ringing echoing across the playground as everything seemed to move in slow motion. I felt like I was moving through molasses as I tried to stand. After barely reaching my feet, the bar crashed down on Little Billy's surprised face and everything toppled to the ground.

I stumbled over to the scene, wood chip dust filing the air. "Uh, hey kid, you okay?" I asked the wreckage after everything had been quiet for what felt like a year. "Little Billy?" I tried, my voice filling the stunned silence.

A noise like a tornado siren exploded from the broken swing set. I clapped my hands to my ears, wincing at the noise. What on earth was that? With my hands covering my ears, I was actually able to understand what was going on –it was crying. Well, at least Little Billy is okay, I thought, feeling the ground shake around me with Little Billy's shriek. Suddenly it occurred to me that the monster-kid was repeating the same nose over and over again. No, wait, it was a word.

I paled slightly. He was calling for his mother. And I also realized that the vibrating I felt wasn't the kid's crying, it was footsteps, very big footsteps.

Looking around frantically, I scanned the area for the kid's mother and my eyes fell on the approaching monster. Well, she was a little hard to miss, bounding down the street next to the playground like a two-story building that had decided to get hop up and walk. The giant looked vaguely female, wearing what I assumed was a dress, though it looked like it was made out of wooly mammoth fur, her red eyes blazing. I have no idea what the mortals saw, but she managed to clear a way through traffic as her massive legs powered down the street, sending out mini-earthquakes with each step.

One giant step and she cleared the eight foot high fence around the playground and hustled over to the swing set wreckage to find her son. I stepped awkwardly back, dodging flying pieces of broken, tossed aside swing set as I moved, hoping that if I edged away slowly enough, I wouldn't get hurt.

The mother giant seemed to be muttering cooing noised as she found Little Billy and swung him up into her arms. Next to his mother, Little Billy looked tiny, almost the proper size for a regular baby in its mother's arms.

"You okay sweetie?" asked the mother bouncing Little Billy in her arms, voice sounding almost female but still ridiculously low.

"N-n-n-no," stuttered Little Billy, still crying, though now he was easier to understand. "I gots boo-boos."

"Show me," said the mom and Little Billy pointed to a couple of places and the mother kissed each one. I smiled at the sight. What can I say? I'm a sap sometimes.

"Now, how this happen?" asked the mom once all the injuries had been kissed and Little Billy settled down enough to not be crying anymore. He seemed okay as far as I could tell, only a tear stained face was any evidence to what he had just been through.

"I play on swings with friend when swings break-ed," sniffed Little Billy, rubbing his nose. I ducked behind the slide, half hiding incase Little Billy sneezed, half not wanting to be seen by the mother.

"Oh? Friend?" asked the mother, sounding as if she were humoring him.

"Uh-huh," said Little Billy earnestly, giving a big smile which then dropped off his face, a frown now clouding his face. "He smell funny."

_Uh-oh,_ I thought, looking for an escape route.

"What?!" asked the mother, voice a combination of anger and worry, swinging her eyes around and giving an almighty sniff. I curled into the fetal position, trying to be as small as possible, and knowing that wouldn't really help. "I smell hero! Son of Hades!"

I swallowed again and sighed, fighting the quiet voice inside me that said trembling in fear was a very good plan. _You're an idiot_, I told myself as I uncoiled myself from behind the slide and stepped out.

"Um, hi, yeah, that's me over here," I said, trying to appear relaxed as my nerves were screaming at me.

"What you do to my son?" she demanded, red eyes almost smoldering, swinging her great head close to mine.

"Let me first say that this is not entirely my fault," I said, fighting the urge to back up. "Your son really wanted to go on the swings. Do you realize how hard it is to tell him 'no'?"

The mother snorted slightly, red eyes beady and glaring at me. "I do not believe hero. Heroes do this on purpose," she said, mouth twisting into a grimace. "I eat heroes who lie!"

"Yay, dinner!" came Billy's voice from his mother's arms. Thanks kid.

"No, really, I promise you I had no intention of hurting your son," I protested, waving my arms frantically.

The mother giant opened her mouth to say something then paused, eyes lighting up with a thought. "Heroes always want to hurt Kakos," she said, nodding to herself as it repeating a rule she had been taught long ago. "You _must_ be lying_._" I took a step back, something like fear rushing into me, as the giant that towered over me grinned at the child in her arms. "What you think, Billy, hero for dinner?"

My eyes were glued to the giant, numb terror holding me in place. So, this is how it's going to end, served as a Nico burger with fries on the side? Nuh-uh, not if I have anything to say about it. I glared up at the giant, terror I had previously felt driven away by some unexplainable anger. Of all the stupid things to happen to me! I take a shower and end up as someone's entrée.

My jaw jutting forward stubbornly, I drew my knife from its hip sheath, swinging it in front of me, enjoying the familiarity of the blade in my hand. Sorry, not going to happen, not today.

The mother giant glared right back at me, drawing in a slow deep breath as Little Billy kicked in her arms. We stared at each other for what felt like ages, my ADD mind telling me this was just like those cliché, old west movies. I hushed it and charged just as the mother let out a puff of air.

Unfortunately, it was not air, but fire. _Well, that's where junior go it_, I thought, rolling to the side. Fortunately I had already been moving otherwise I would now be barbeque. She let out a roar at the miss and this time blew a steady stream of fire as I dashed around her feet, trying to find way to get closer to her.

I scrambled forward, hoping to grab onto her giant foot, but suddenly it was gone. Looking up, the sky seemed to be the color of dirty foot, and I dodged out of the way. The foot came down with a slam, sending the ground rocking.

Stumbling back, I re-clutched my knife. Okay, new plan, one that doesn't involve feet. My senses were tingling, telling me everything that was going on around me; mother giant was taking more deep breaths, Little Billy was clapping his hands and cheering (what he was saying, I have no idea), traffic on the street next to the playground continued to sail by (no mortals noticed yet, thank the gods), the undamaged swing set creaked faintly in the…wait, the swing set. An idea slowly formed in my mind.

I looked up at the giant and tensed, break time was over. Faking to the left foot was enough to gain me some extra time as she stamped again with that foot, setting herself off balance. I ran toward the undamaged swing set and pulled myself up onto one of the seats, pumping my body to get myself swinging.

The mother turned with a frustrated roar in time to see the cheeky grin on my face as I sent myself flying. Don't fail me now, physics!

I landed right where I was aiming for, her face. My momentum was enough to knock her off balance. Teetering back and forth, I remembered why I didn't like going out on water, stomach rolling slightly as I gripped whatever I could for a handhold. She swayed, one arm spinning to try and steady herself. Unfortunately, with the added weight of a squirming Billy, she toppled over, landing with a minor earthquake on her rear, flattening the jungle gym underneath. So much for not being destroyed.

"Ha!" I said, swinging myself and landing on her shoulder, placing the knife at her throat. I had just beaten a giant with a knife. _Two_ giants, if you count the baby. With a _knife._ How awesome was I? I knew I had only to touch her with my knife and her essence was gone. She knew it too. No rematerializing for her! That was the power of Stygian ice blade.

I flood of power came over me, washing me in thoughts of pain and destruction. I was in control for once! I shook with panting as my eager body leaned in to finish the job.

And there was silence. And I didn't move. _C'mon, just one strike,_ I told myself, knife hovering a hair's width away from her neck. _Why didn't I move?_ the power-crazed voice asked.

"Mommy?" came Little Billy's voice. I looked down for a second. Little Billy, in spite of everything that just happened was still in his mother's arms. She had not dropped him, keeping him safe throughout the whole thing.

I swallowed, suddenly uncertain, and looked up toward the mother's face. From where I was standing, all I could see was her great chin and jaw line. She didn't seem to be moving, almost as if she wasn't breathing. Almost as if she had resigned herself to her fate?

No, this couldn't be right. I felt drained as I let my blade lower to my side. What I was doing was suicide now, I knew, as I took a step away from the giant's neck, but I couldn't go through with it. I guess I had gotten attached to Little Billy, little bugger that he was, though I barely knew him, if I killed his mother what would happen to him? Call me a coward, a wuss, whatever. Gods know I've been called worse, but all I knew was she didn't deserve to die, not when she still had a son, not like this.

I slid down her back and landed heavily, knees almost buckling underneath me. My mind tumbled and rolled, barely comprehending what I was doing. Noticing my book bag on the ground, it had gotten thrown there at some point during the fight; I wandered toward it before heading to the hole in the fence. I had almost made it to the destroyed fence –Billy's entrance—when the mother giant spoke.

"Why you no kill?" she asked, head turned to look curiously at me, eyes still glowing red but now the scariness was gone, replaced by confusion.

"I don't know," I said, meeting her eyes briefly then looking away –my mind demanding that I go back to the fight and get in control again, kill again. "You have a cute son," I added shrugging and turned to walk away.

"Wait," she said, slowly standing and looking down at me from her full height, still holding Little Billy in her arms. "My name Matilda. I remember this."

I nodded to her and she offered a soft smile and then wandered away, to where ever monsters go when they aren't terrorizing half bloods.

I left too, not wanting to be there when the mortals finally did notice something had happened to their play ground.

* * *

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	4. Cold Hearted Snake

A/N: I am so so sorry that this was so long in coming. I had it written in my notebook for awhile, but it just took some serious willpower and a lot of free time to finally get it typed up. As a thanks for waiting so long, I've kept this chapter at its full length, instead of breaking it in half like I have been doing. So, this is one extra long chapter for your reading pleasure. Tell me if you like it this length, or I can go back to the smaller size.

Thank you everyone who had read, reviewed, favorited or alerted this story, it really helps keep me motivated to write! Anyway, I'll stop blabbing now. I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: Not mine!

I managed to find my way back to Percy's dorm –it was the largest building on campus, it wasn't too difficult to manage. Dragging myself into the lobby and up the one flight of stairs felt like it took forever as my exhausted body protested each step. I finally reached Percy's floor and walked into his open door, thankful that Percy was there. Collapsing onto Percy's bed with a groan, I closed my eyes and almost fell asleep before Percy even realized I was there.

"Nico?" he said, voice sounding worried. "What happened?"

I cracked one eye open to look at the son of Poseidon, spotting Brandon peering curiously over his shoulder before flicking back to his videogames.

"I met some unexpected visitors," I said, closing my eyes and trying to make up a reason for being gone for so long. Hopefully Percy would understand what I was trying to tell him. "They were kind of lost, and I told them I didn't really know where to go, but they pretty much forced me to go with them anyway." I let out a particularly pathetic moan. "I think I've walked around the campus three times."

"That's weird," said Percy, I cracked my eye again to see him shrug, but I could tell by his eyes that he guessed what I was hinting at, or at least part of it.

"Do you wanna go to lunch somewhere?" he asked after a pause. I was about to protest, but then I saw the pleading look in his eyes and I knew that this was the only way that I could talk to him without Brandon being there.

Even though I didn't want to move myself for at least a week, my traitorous mouth muttered, "Sure."

"Going to Avanti's?" asked Brandon, eyes fixed on his computer.

"Yep," said Percy, standing and stretching slightly.

'Will you bring me back—"

"Two pizza breads? Got it," finished Percy, grabbing his wallet then looking down at me.

"I'll pay you back…"

I still had not moved. Honestly, I really did want to move, my body just didn't listen to me. Finally Percy hauled me up, muttering jokingly about "lazy kids these days." Before we left his dorm room, I glanced at the digital clock and saw it was 12:00. If my shower was a half hour or so, then my monster encounter had lasted only about an hour. It felt like decades.

"You look like you've been beaten with clubs and the run over by a pack of centaurs," said Percy as we thundered down the steps back to the lobby.

"Thank you, Percy," I said sarcastically. "You've always had such a way with words."

Percy offered a wicked grin as we reached the lobby and then exited the residence hall. "It is one of my finer talents," he said, mock-modestly.

"Yeah," I said, snorting, but returning his smile. "That and archery."

"You wound me, Nico," he said, face a mask of pain as he dramatically clutched his heart, "you really do."

I rolled my eyes and laughed, wondering why I always got stuck with the crazies.

"So, anyway, back to what I was saying," said Percy as we crossed a busy street, dodging traffic. "Why do you look half-dead?"

"Some would say I look half-alive," I mused as we reached the other side of the street and walked onto the sidewalk, continuing along down the side of the street. I think the giant fight had made me more tired than I thought. I wasn't making any sense, not even to myself.

"Nico?" asked Percy, giving me a strange look, voice a mixture of confusion and sternness. We turned into a parking lot which was bordered by a stucco, one-story building. I assumed it was our destination. The sign outside read Avanti's—Home of the World Famous Gondola. Whatever that was.

I shot Percy a questioning look, my ADD mind already distracted from the topic at hand, but then I saw his worried look which jolted me back to our conversation. I guess my ADD was still on overdrive after the fight.

"I met up with a baby monster," I said after a pause as Percy steered me into the restaurant. We passed a little coin fountain and then took seats in the lobby after telling the waitress we were there to eat. She told us we had about a five minute wait. "It was some kind of fire breathing giant."

"Fire breathing giant?" asked Percy, sea-green eyes sharp.

"Yeah, it said its name was Kakos."

"I've never heard—"

"Neither had I," I said. "Would Annabeth know?"

"Would Annabeth _not_ know?" retorted Percy.

"True enough," I said, nodding and smirking slightly.

"And then?" prompted Percy.

"So this giant-kid-monster wanted to play," I continued. "I just managed to get it out of the dorm—"

"Wait, the monster was in my dorm?" interrupted Percy again.

"Yeah, it found me right after I was done with my shower," I said somewhat impatiently. "Now will you let me keep going without interrupting?"

Percy opened his mouth protest and I glared at him. He seemed to think for a moment and then raised his hand slightly. "Questions at the end?" he asked.

I nodded. "No more interrupting?" I asked him in turn. He nodded back. "Okay, well, after I—"

"Percy, table for two," came the waitress's voice. You've got to be kidding me. Percy started laughing and I joined in. The gods really like to make me look stupid with the whole timing thing.

After we were seated and had looked at the menus, Percy prompted me again to keep going.

"Okay," I said, talking really fast and in a lowered voice so a) I wouldn't be interrupted again and b) no one would overhear me. "So, I took this monster kid to the playground by your campus and he lit the jungle gym on fire and destroyed the kiddie swing set. When he fell down, he started crying really loud for his mom. She showed up from somewhere and almost ate me for dinner. I brought her down, but I didn't kill her and now I think I have a giant in my debt."

I paused for breath, making sure I had everything. Yep, that was pretty much it. My last one and a half hours—Sparknotes version. Percy whistled appreciatively.

"No mortals saw anything?" he asked after a minute of thought.

"Not that I know of," I said shrugging. "No one came over during the whole thing."

"Excuse me," asked a new waiter, appearing at our table. "I can take your drink orders if you're ready."

"I think we're ready to order food now, too, if that's alright," said Percy, glancing at me briefly. I shrugged again and nodded, planning to just order the same thing as Percy. I couldn't decide.

"You first," I said to Percy when he glanced at me again.

"Okay," he said smoothly, then looked up at the waiter. "I'll have ice water, a gondola deluxe, and bread."

"Make that two," I added, not entirely sure what Percy had just ordered, but figuring it couldn't be too bad.

"Oh," said Percy as the waiter moved to leave the table. "Can I have two pizza breads to go as well?" he asked.

The waiter nodded then left to see to our orders. Percy leaned back in his chair and sighed somewhat wistfully. "I can't believe you met a monster. On my own campus! Where was I?"

"Probably in class. What, are you getting antsy?" I asked. The waiter brought our two waters over and we both thanked him. I took a sip of mine.

"Antsy doesn't even begin to cover it," said Percy, swirling the water around his glass. The words came out slow at first, but then tumbled out, tripping over each other like they were thankful for finally being let out. "It was nice to be normal for while, but that's just not what I am. Not anymore. The gods, the monsters, the fighting, the quests, they're all a part of who I am. Without them –I'm missing part of me."

He slumped back in his seat, and looked away, eyed seeing something I couldn't. And the thing is; I knew exactly what he was talking about. Not to the extent that he felt it probably, but I felt it too. It was a sort of Half Blood cabin fever and it made it very hard to settle down for anything. And that wasn't just my ADD.

"Don't worry, Percy, we'll find some monsters for you to smash," I said, trying to be comforting, but mostly sounding lame. I'm not good at the whole "optimistic friend" thing.

Percy looked at me and smirked. At least he realized that I was trying. "Thanks," he said, as the waiter came back with our order.

The food ended up being delicious, and it was probably a good thing that I was dirt poor because otherwise I would have gone there every day. We dropped Brandon's food off at the dorm and then Percy felt it was his duty to give me a tour of the university, showing me around campus as the afternoon sun shone.

"And this is the Bone Student Center," he said, pointing across a huge parking lot to a giant building on the other side. We had just seen the football field, and were heading east across the parking lot approaching the massive complex. It looked to be about the size of a football field itself. "It's attached to the library, and has a concert hall on the inside, as well as a food court, and a convenience store, and a bunch of other meeting halls and rooms."

I stared at the building, taking it in, trying to remember everything in my mind. Even though it was only three or so in the afternoon, I was dead tired from the fight; my brain struggling to remember all the facts and directions Percy was telling me.

"Wanna take a look inside?" asked Percy after we had admired the building from a distance for a minute or so.

"Percy," I began, "I kinda just want—"

"Great!" he said, cutting me off and grabbing me by the arm before dragging me into the Student's Center. We finished walking through the parking lot and entered the building at the ground level, Percy showing me all the attractions as we climbed the stairs. We saw the Braden Auditorium, which was a huge theater, with three tiers of seating, and the library -but we only peeked in that place, leaving quickly after the words began to dance around the book covers. After wandering around for a little while, I finally convinced Percy that I was too tired to register anything that was going on and he took me out a different door that opened onto a courtyard and an overpass over a busy street. We were facing the Quad, which I vaguely remember seeing earlier in the tour—a giant rectangle of grass surrounded by various buildings on the four sides.

We crossed the over pass and followed one of the many paths that crisscrossed the Quad, but something seemed off. I can't explain it, I just _felt_ it. Percy must have felt something too because he stopped suddenly. I blinked somewhat surprised, but then I realized I had stopped as well.

"You feel it too?" asked Percy, peering around him, like he knew he was looking for something, but didn't know exactly what.

I nodded, suddenly feeling awake and glanced around as well, jaw clenched. Not another fight!

Sweeping my eyes all around, I even looked to the sky and down to the ground—an attack can come from any…where,…..hey.

"Percy," I said in a tense voice, staring wide-eyed at the ground. "Look at the grass."

Percy looked down too and his eyes widened as he bent down to examine it. Right off the sidewalk where we were standing was a clear trail of dead grass, as if someone forgot to fertilize a four foot wide path on the lawn. Percy poked the dead grass with a finger and then hissed suddenly, waving his hand around as if he was burnt.

"What is it?" I asked, moving to poke the grass as well. Curiosity killed the cat, what can I say?

"Don't touch it," he said, frowning at his finger and then shaking his head confused. "It's like acid," he muttered, rubbing his finger on his pants before standing up straight again. "Let's go," he said, following the trail of dead grass, though not actually stepping on it.

"Wait," I protested, turning to look behind me and spotting another trail on the other side of the path. "How do you know which was to go?"

"Because the grass is all bent in this direction," he said, pointing toward the direction he was going.

"Meaning?" I asked, stepping off the path to follow Percy anyway, despite my question.

"Meaning whatever it was, was slithering that way," he answered before focusing back on following the trail.

Slithering? I asked myself; something tickled at the back of my mind, remembering a memory, but not fully recalling all of it. Frowning slightly, I followed Percy as the older demigod headed along the path. We followed the dead grass to the left, heading toward the science building, Felmley Hall.

Percy had picked up speed now, ready for the fight. I fed off his nervous energy, beginning to get excited as we jogged around the brick building and came upon three long green houses. We came to a stop, grass having ended and any visible trail gone.

I looked around. "Now where do we go?" I asked Percy, scanning the area.

Percy didn't reply, just pointed at the greenhouse door that swung on its hinges, noticeably open as the others were firmly closed.

"Oh," I said. "That's not good."

"You ready to fight?" asked Percy, an excited gleam in his eye as he pulled out his pen/sword Riptide.

I smiled eagerly back at him as my sore body protested. "Sure thing."

"Alright," said Percy, nodding and uncapping his pen. "Watch my back." Moving up into the open green house, I anxiously followed, pulling out my knife as I walked, ears alive to any suspicious noises.

The inside of the greenhouse was hot and humid which came as something of a shock after the slightly-turning-to-fall weather outside. The air smelled of dirt, which was somewhat encouraging in a greenhouse setting, but then again, it also reminded me of the Underworld. The dampness clung to me skin as the green-ness inside enfolded me. Plants of every style surrounded me; from flowers, ferns, and shrubs to small trees and creeping vines. Let's put it this way: a Demeter kid would've had a heyday.

Suddenly my eyes caught an unusual swath of brown that cut across the scene. Along the plants lower to the ground, a stretch of dead plants withered pitifully. The line of dying plants was so regular it looked as if they had been painted that way. I met Percy's eyes and he nodded, quickly following the path of destruction with his eyes, jaw clenched.

I hefted my knife and looked around, a faint hissing noise tickling my ear. Probably just the sprinklers, or whatever, turning on, I assumed as we continued deeper into the greenhouse working very quietly.

Suddenly Percy stopped, frowning. "That's weird," he muttered. "The trail just stops." He jabbed Riptide at a faintly smoldering plant. It looked like it had been burned without fire. Acid.

The trail was fresh, but where was the monster? The hissing was getting louder and I shook my head, trying to clear it as the humidity lulled me out of my alert state.

A thought continued to tickle the back of my mind. If the hissing was the sprinkler system, then why hadn't I felt any water hit me? Besides the already ridiculously high amount of water in the air, I hadn't felt any liquid water at all.

I looked up, curious, wanting to inspect the sprinkler system further and I froze.

Staring down at me, entwined around the sprinkler system beams was a giant snake at least four feet in diameter and gods knows how long. It was pitch black with a cobra-like hood that bore four white specks, with a fifth on the top of its head. It drooled what I assumed was venom that dripped onto the plants beneath it, leaving a trail of withering plants where it fell.

"Baliskos," I gasped, before jumping to the side as it lunged straight for me.

"Percy, move!" I managed to say before falling onto a row of unusually colored flowers completely smushing them. Don't kill me, Demeter.

"What is that thing?" yelled Percy as he dodged another lunge from the snake monster.

"A Baliskos!" I yelled back. "It—"

"What?" yelled Percy, paling a couple shades. "Close your eyes."

"Why?" I yelled back, managing to stand up and wave my knife in front of me to lure off any further Baliskos lunges. _Wait, where did Percy go_? I looked around, keeping a leery eye on the Baliskos as it hung from the sprinklers like a giant horrible string of Christmas lights.

"Percy? Where are you?" I yelled, wishing for a shield for perhaps the thousandth time in my life as the Baliskos lunged again. I jabbed at its snapping jaws and only succeeded in scraping its skin before rolling away from the dripping venom.

"Under a planter thing," came Percy's voice. What is Percy doing? It must be "let's watch Nico die" day. Honestly, he's faced worse than a giant poisonous snake before, not to mention he's freaking invulnerable.

"Why are you hiding?" I roared back, diving under a raised trough of water lilies to take a break from the Baliskos acid rain.

"Because its stare can kill you, duh," came Percy's reply.

I groaned and muttered darkly to myself, army crawling along underneath the trough before I came to the end and chancing a look to see what the Baliskos was doing. It was still searching the area where I had rolled underneath the lilies. I had a couple seconds if anything.

I spotted Percy hiding underneath a giant hanging fern, vines like a curtain partially shielding him from view, his hands clasped over his eyes. I scuttled over to him quickly and quietly, holding back the urge to thump him over the head with my knife.

"You haven't been reading Harry Potter, have you?" I muttered to him.

Letting out a slightly frightened squeak, he softly cleared his throat. "No," he said too quickly, "why?"

Oh, that was totally going to be blackmail; not so much the Harry Potter part, but the fact that I almost made him wet his pants. "Because," I said simply, as if talking to a very small child, "the Baliskos in Greek mythology only have poisonous venom; they can't kill with a stare."

"How do you—," protested Percy, slipping his hands off his eyes, nevertheless, to glare at me.

"Because I've fought them before." I cut him off, smirking somewhat triumphantly. Percy stared at me blankly. "Obviously you've never been to Singapore."

"And you have?"

"Uh…long story. Can we kill the monster now?"

Percy heaved a sigh, but perked up nonetheless perked up slightly. Obviously the thought of not dying by just looking at the monster cheered him up considerably. "Tell me the story later. So, do you have a plan to kill this guy?"

"Working on it," I muttered, peeking out from underneath the vines to see that Baliskos was now starting to quest forward in our direction, tongue flicking out to taste our scent.

"Got anything yet?"

"Ah….nope." What can I say, I'm not a strategist. "Wing it?" I suggested.

"I can work with that." Percy grinned eagerly, eyes lighting up again, and he rolled out from under the plant.

I rolled out in the other direction and stood with just enough time to see Percy take a swing at the Baliskos, looking like a crazed birthday boy with a giant piñata.

"Don't let the venom touch you," I warned, noticing Percy's nod of acknowledgment and his quick roll away. I wasn't sure how well invulnerability worked with poisons, but it would suck to find out the hard way. Anyway, now it was my turn to attack.

I cut in, working my knife handily, aiming for the eye, and right under the jaw. I could have tried to a cut lower on its neck, but something told me a four foot wide body would need something a lot heftier that a knife to hack through it.

The fight quickly arrived at a standstill. Percy and I would tag team; each taking a chance with the giant snake, so we didn't get too tired, but the constant sprays of the Baliskos' venom was like an unwanted shower. It also seemed to have some kind of armor on its body, making our weapons just bounce back ineffectively. We could have tried to come at it from two different angles but the head was the only thing in reach as it hung down to snap at us, otherwise the rest of it was up in the rafters and there simply wasn't enough room in the narrow aisle for the two of us to take it on at once.

_A plan_, I thought while Percy hacked at the giant snake. _I need a plan. Well, making a couple taunts always managed to stir things up._

"Hey, ugly," I yelled. "I heard your mom was a tapeworm!" I wasn't entirely sure that it understood English, but it glared at me, distracted from Percy and I swallowed nervously. If the Baliskos' look did kill that would be the end of Nico di Angelo.

Percy, however, took advantage of the distracted snake and finally got a good cut on its head right behind the eyes. It bellowed angrily and spat at Percy, but its eyes were still trained furiously on me. Percy rolled aside as I felt my stomach drop.

_Uh-oh, that's not good_. And it began to shift its body, the first time since the battle started. The sprinkler system creaked as the snake moved, head lifting out of reach so it could thread itself through the rafters. _Not good at all._

I turned around and bolted, looking for someplace to either hide or to jump up higher to take a strike. If I could just hit the monster in the same spot as Percy, that would finish it off. Glancing up, I saw the Baliskos hot on my tail, leaving a long trail of drool-venom in the rafters as it moved. _Maybe its mother really _was_ a tapeworm. Note to self: making "yo mama" jokes about giant snakes is not a good plan, unless dying is the goal._

I pounded down the aisle, eyes scanning the area looking for something, anything, that could help me make a plan. Then I reached the end of the line, pretty much literally. I skidded to a halt. I was at the end of the greenhouse. A wall of cloudy glass stared resolutely back at me. I whipped around to see the Baliskos had lowered itself down to my eye level, looking at me in a cruel way, like it knew it was going to win.

Jutting my jaw stubbornly forward, I refused to be intimated and I raised my knife, making a frantic attempt at jabbing the Baliskos where Percy had cut it.

It spat at me. I dug my Stygian blade into the mark Percy had made. My arms blocked my face from most of the venom spray; thankfully my reflexes were still working as my mind watched numbly. Then, both the snake and I roared in pain.

I don't even remember what happened to the Baliskos after that. My whole world was pain. It was hot like a scalding frying pan, cold like a dunking in ice water. My body didn't know how to respond, but my mouth did the only logical thing and just kept yelling. Another voice, one not my own, but still familiar, roared as well.

The next thing I knew, some liquid was being dribbled down my throat.

"C'mon, drink," muttered a voice. "Please. Quickly."

I don't know if my body was obeying the order or if it was just following a reflex but it swallowed and I felt a coolness surge through my burning body. I really couldn't feel the rest of my body after I swallowed the drink. I assume I was still in pain, but I couldn't feel it anymore. I think my nerves just went on strike. But the drink, oh it was bliss. I felt like I was on a cloud of warm apple pies and cool ice cream. _Nectar!_ My mind finally registered. Thank the gods Percy was as paranoid as I was and carried some everywhere. I swallowed more, a slow tingling creeping up my legs, as if they were just waking up after falling asleep. My legs didn't feel too bad, besides the fact they felt about twice their normal weight, but my arms were another story, I still couldn't feel them.

And the liquid stopped coming. I opened an unfocused eye to stare up at the fuzzy form of Percy. From what I could tell, he was definitely worse for the wear, a patch of something dark and reeking of monster coated his shoulder. _Why no more?_ I wanted to ask, but my lips wouldn't form the words.

Percy must have read my expression, or maybe just my mute stare (I don't think my face was showing much of an expression at that point) and he winced. "Sorry, I don't want you to burn up… and I don't think you can chew, can you?" he asked somewhat rhetorically. I let out a low moan, and Percy's jaw tightened. "We need to get you some help."

I wanted to tell him something, but before I could even think of what it was, I lost consciousness again.

Thanks for reading! Please review!


	5. Wake me up When September Ends

A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited and alerteds this story!

Disclaimer: Not mine!

Chapter 5: Wake Me up when September Ends

The next couple days passed with me barely recognizing them. My arms throbbed and my mind reeled with the pain. Percy gave me as much nectar and, when we got back to his dorm (which I don't really remember how), ambrosia as he dared, but that wasn't much more he could do. Baliskos venom was supposed to be deadly and now I knew why. I wasn't entirely sure how I was still alive, but the pain didn't leave me much time to think of anything, let alone contemplate my fate.

I finally came to on what I learned was about half a week after the Baliskos attack. It's not that I was unconscious the whole time, it was just this was the first time I actually cared to look around. And I almost had a heart attack.

The walls surrounding me were a cool blue, not the off-white of Percy's dorm room, the last place I somewhat remembered. And, what's more, I was in bed and not a toxic-underwear-sleeping-bag. I blinked at the room, sluggishly trying to figure out where I was. My bandaged arms lay in front of me on top of my covers as I glanced calmly around the room, not panicking yet. A door was off to my right on the wall, a window to my left. The room was longer than it was wide, and a desk with a chair sat at the opposite end room from my bed with another door next to it on the wall. I decided sitting up would be a good idea, but, when I tried it, I shifted my arms which screamed in protest. Yeah, just laying there was a better plan.

Almost as if on cue, Percy walked into the room, entering through the door to the side of my bed. "Morning, Sleeping Beauty! You're awake." He offered a smile when he saw me looking, "Great!"

"Well, I guess it's not technically morning, but…," he continued, trailing off and shrugged his shoulders, raising the blinds to the window on the other side of my bed to let in some light.

I scowled at him and the sunlight slightly, not used to the brightness from both parties, before trying to speak. I did a great impression of a frog, but no words came out.

"Oh, right," said Percy. "I'll get you something to eat."

_Thanks, Percy,_ I thought sarcastically. _Note to self: Make sure Percy never thinks about being a nurse._

Percy was gone long enough that I managed to doze off before he returned, arms laden with a tray of simple food. Walking carefully, he placed the tray on my lap and helped me sit upright, shifting and punching the pillows until I was, for all intents and purposes, sitting. I tried to move my arms again to go for the food, and was rewarded with another wave of pain. A grimace of pain and frustration flickered across my face, which Percy noticed.

He pulled up the chair from the desk and sat down, picking up a spoon from the tray. "Here, I'll help you," said Percy. "What do you want first? Water?"

I nodded glumly, not liking the idea of being fed like a child, but accepted the offered glass of water, sipping out of the bendy straw so I wouldn't spill. The cool water washed down my throat, clearing away the gunk and dryness there and helping me to wake up.

I stopped sipping and leaned back slightly, looking at Percy as he put the glass back down. "Where are we?" I asked as Percy began to spoon feed me applesauce.

"An excellent question," said he evasively, working the spoon carefully so not to spill. Okay, maybe not a nurse, but maybe a mommy, I thought, feeling ornery.

"And?" I prompted, after swallowing the spoonful of applesauce. Percy put the spoon down and got up to check the door, peeking down the hallway before shutting it. Coming back to his seat by my bed, his face was clouded with worry. "Well, apparently this is your house."

I gaped silently at him and then swept my eyes around the room. Nope, still as foreign as before.

"That's what I thought," said Percy watching my face. "These two huge guys appeared in my dorm about two days ago and demanded that you leave."

"They weren't my dad's goons, were they?" I asked, scowling again. There was one point in my life where I wished that my dad would pay a little more attention to me, but more recently, he had started acting strange whenever I'd gone to visit the Underworld. I don't know what was on his mind, but staying as far away from him as possible seemed like a good plan. I hoped that this wasn't part of whatever scheme he was cooking up.

"No," said Percy, interrupting my thoughts. "They were mortals…I think. Anyway, I would have just manipulated the Mist, but they didn't just come just to kick you out, they had a threat too. 'No one can stay in campus housing for more than a week unless they are a student and paying tuition. Failure to follow this will result in fines and further appropriate actions'." He said the last part as if quoting it, even lowering his voice to help the effect.

"I thought your roommate said the school doesn't notice stuff," I said, brow furrowed, not liking where this was going.

"They don't," replied Percy, face serious. We looked at each other, knowing we were sharing the same thought.

"Then someone ratted," I said after a pause, finally voicing what we were both thinking. "Brandon?"

"No," said Percy, shaking his head slowly. "I don't think it was Brandon. He's got this anti-institution thing. He doesn't really like the school system or any rules that go with it."

"Then why is he there?" I asked, still suspicious of Percy's roommate. I couldn't help remember my book bag's mysterious shift around Percy's room.

"'The chicks'," said Percy, again as if quoting taking his fingers to show the quotation marks for emphasis.

We both drifted into silence. Percy only just remembered his job to feed me, now offering me pieces of soft, delicious Avanti's sweet bread.

"Well, look on the bright side," said Percy. "At least you've got your own place now. There's been moving guys putting stuff in here for the past two days, acting like they know exactly where everything should go."

I frowned slightly at the thought of the weird moving guys, but then smiled, chewing the piece of bread thoughtfully. "Yeah, a place all my own. I like that. And no more biohazard underwear!"

"Hey, it's not that bad," said Percy reproachfully, switching back to applesauce.

"I've been around dead people that smell nicer than your room," I said with mock seriousness.

"Har-dee-har-har," said Percy. "Eat your applesauce." And he jammed a new spoonful in my mouth.

"Yes, mommy," I mumbled mischievously, finishing my meal.

The days drifted by, moving slowly from late summer to early fall. I was confined to my bedroom for most of the transition, waiting for my arms to heal. Percy had gotten a hold of Grover somehow who recommended Percy try some special paste from a certain plant. I was reluctant to try it, mostly because Percy made it, but after about a week of the treatment, I noticed an improvement, and, by Mid-October, I was finally able to walk around my house more.

It was a modest little thing –a one bedroom, one bathroom, one floor affair, but that was all I needed really. The kitchen was furnished with brand new appliances and the living room had this huge flat screen TV, yeah, I was going to get spoiled. The house seemed almost cheerful. I half-believed that this could have been just luck, maybe I had won the lottery…somehow. This couldn't have been organized by Hades. For one thing, there was a significant lack of black and silver, my dad's favorite colors, but then many unusual occurrences kept reminding me of the fact that this house was not just a coincidence.

When I was able to move around my room, the first thing I did was get a better view out of my bedroom window. It was like watching a reality TV show, but, you know, it was actually real. Hey, I was bored and my bedroom didn't have a TV so people-watching was the only interesting thing I could do while I waited for my arms to stop throbbing.

I quickly became familiar with the quiet neighborhood I was a part of. It was about two blocks west of the college campus so a lot of the houses around me had professors in them. I would watch as they left or came home throughout the day, following their rhythms of life. Now I knew what it felt like to be a god, or at least, to creep like one.

One day, something unusual caught my eye. Or rather, someone, make that someones. A bulky, at least 7 feet tall, and a thin, tweedy man were standing at the corner of the block, right where two streets intersected, seeming to be debating something. They weren't all that odd at first, just unfamiliar, but then they both turned around and stared right at my house, right at the window I was in, right at me.

I ducked down to hide beneath the window ledge, realizing too late that my movement probably screamed "Hey! Look over here!" I sat huddled beneath the window sill for five minute before taking a peek back outside. They were both gone.

Sweeping the surrounding area with my eyes, I sighed. I know they weren't gone, they would be back. Those two felt really familiar to me for some reason, but I didn't quite know why.

Percy came to visit occasionally, always bringing gifts of food, enough so that my once bare kitchen was now acceptably stocked with the necessities: cereal, chips, Oreos, and every type of instant/food microwavable food year can imagine. He would stick around for as long as he could, just talking in order to combat any cabin fever before heading back to campus and leaving me with my glum spirits. Most of which were tangible than I would have liked. Well, as tangible as ghosts can be.

You know the feeling when you see someone out of the corner of your eye and you turn to look, but no one's there? That sort of indistinct shadow? That was pretty much what was floating around the neighborhood. There were times when I could look straight at them, when the spirit and I would make eye contact, but I tried to avoid that. It made my stomach drop and turned the fall weather icy. I was generally leery of all the spirits, pretty much every since Minos pulled that fast one on me, I didn't really want to put my trust in them.

In my travels, despite my efforts to avoid ghosts, I had met many of the spirits and demons that called the Underworld home, though most of the time, they weren't in the Underworld. Each experience was terrible, none of these ghosts were of the Casper variety; from the general lost soul type to the more specialized such as the corpse eating Eurymonos and the evil human-possessing Eidolones, the death demon Keres and, of course, Melinoe. Oh, and don't forget the empousai –apparently when not in service to Kronos, they called the Underworld home too. Fabulous.

Normally the spirits in the Underworld and on earth just ignored me, which was fine by me, but more recently, whenever I had encountered them, they stopped whoever they were tormenting to see if they could help me with something. It was definitely worse than the neglect and I knew my dad must be up to something. Even more alarming, they had started following me, not many at first and not everywhere; but after the couple weeks that I had been stuck in one place recovering, a small group had gathered around my house. It was mostly the soul variety; those normally only found during summoning ceremonies.

Their indistinct forms flickering out of the corner of my eye nearly drove me up a wall, but they never came closer than two or so homes in any direction, but I could sense they were there, watching me. And something told me they weren't just waiting for me to do a flip.

A light mist began to hang around the area, both the weather kind and the supernatural kind, and it began to affect even the mortals. They were tense, snapping at each other and keeping a cautious eye on their surroundings. Percy, completely oblivious as he was, noticed the ghosts at the end of my third week of recovery.

"I don't want to freak you out or anything," Percy began, slinging another bag of groceries onto my kitchen table. With the way Percy was stocking my cabinets I wouldn't need food for the next year.

"I know," I said, hunched over in my chair at the kitchen table, head cupped in my hands, staring at the bag of groceries in front of my face. "We are not alone." I made a face, glancing out a window in enough time to see a ghost flick behind a bush.

"Do they normally follow you?" he asked, beginning to sort things out.

"Not until recently," I replied, moving to him, grabbing a box of Wheat-thins and putting them in the cabinet with the other crackers.

"You don't know how long they've been watching you?" asked Percy, putting a jug milk in the fridge.

"Nope," I said, tossing a pack of Oreos by my stash of cookies in a lazy susan underneath the counter.

"Weird," muttered Percy.

"Welcome to my life," I said, slumping back down into my chair by the kitchen table, the food all put away. Briefly admiring all of my glorious food and my kitchen, I almost hit myself. I'm such an idiot. Why didn't I think of it before?

"Percy," I began, "where have you been getting the money for all this food? And you never finished telling me where this house came from!"

"Oh, so you finally noticed?" said Percy, voice amused as he sat down munching a bag of potato chips.

Okay, fine, last time I call Percy unobservant. Thank you karma, or whatever the Greek version of that is.

"That's another weird thing," he continued, not rubbing in my complete inability of noticing something so obvious, "Right after those two huge guys came and told me that you couldn't stay on campus anymore, two more guys showed up –another huge guy and this really thin guy. They said they were lawyers looking for Nico di Angelo and that if he was you that you had to go with them. I tried saying I was you but they had everything. I mean _everything_: a picture, a birth certificate, an i.d. I'm not even sure why they asked me if you were you."

I opened my mouth to protest. How could they my birth certificate? It would show me as being over 80 years old.

Percy's face was grim as he held up hand to stop me, shrugging in the same motion, and continued. "I told them I wouldn't leave you so they brought me along and we came here. Apparently this house belongs to you, the deed's over there somewhere," he said, waving a hand over to a pile of papers I hadn't noticed before, "and this debit card is yours too, which, as far as I can tell, has an infinite amount of money on it."

Percy drew a debit card out of his pocket and slid it over the table to me. I stared at it for a moment and then picked it up, admiring how the black face of the card shimmered. I then blinked, freezing it mid-tilt. I saw Percy nod out of the corner of my eye as I gaped at the helmet design emblazoned across the otherwise normal Visa debit card. I recognized the helmet; it was the symbol of my father.

"The lawyer asked me to give this to you too," said Percy, pulling a battered but normal letter out of his pocket. I was too stunned to talk and just took it, breaking the seal to open it. The words stood clear and bold on the page and, for some reason, I could read it immediately. It took me a second to realize it was written in ancient Greek.

_Nico,_

_As my son, I feel that I have not properly provided for you over the years, so here is a house as well as a debit card to use as best as you see fit. You know I expect only the best from you. Do not let me down. Fight well, 'Ghost King'._

The bottom of the short letter bore a heavy stamp, another emblem of the helmet. I didn't think anyone stamped the end of their letters anymore, but then again, that's my dad, old-fashioned. Yeah, old-fashioned as dirt.

"What did it say?" asked Percy, jolting me out of my thoughts.

"Just that the house and the debit card are mine, a gift from my dad," I said, setting the letter flat on the table so Percy could look at it. I saw his eyebrow's shoot up in amazement as he noticed the Greek writing and then his eyes quickly flicked over the message.

"That's almost…._fatherly_ of him," said Percy after a pause.

"I know," I said, hearing Percy's worry that mimicked how I felt.

"I didn't know your dad _did_ fatherly," added Percy, looking at me with a wary expression. "And what's that about 'Ghost King'?"

"Remember in the Labyrinth?" I said. "After I realized Minos was using me, I said _I_ was the Ghost King. Well, the name sort of stuck, but that's the first time I've heard my dad use it."

I sighed, picking up the paper again, staring at the Greek letters on the page but not really seeing them.

"What now?" I asked Percy, sea-green eyes carefully searching me face as if trying to figure out what I was thinking. _I_ was trying to figure out what I was thinking.

I needed to get out of the house, at least for the night. I wasn't stupid, I'm not the kind of guy who passes up a free house and an unlimited debit card, but I also didn't want to trust gift-bearing Greeks too much, so to speak. I'd leave eventually but, at the moment, I had a more short term outing in mind. I was healed enough, my arms could take it.

"Any good movies out?"

* * *

A/N: Thank you for reading and I'm sorry for the filter chapter! Did you love it? Hate it? I don't care, just review!


	6. Gives you Hades

A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favortied, or watched the last chapter!

Disclaimer: Still not mine!

Chapter 6: Gives You He—er Hades

The movie we ended up going to see was dumb; some cheap comedy with lame gags and a random actor who was on the downhill of his career. The choice was either that movie, a cheesy romantic vampire film, or a remake of an old horror flick (it being close to Halloween). Some would argue the second two were basically the same movie, but I didn't really care either way, because I wasn't in the mood for seeing monsters on the movie screen (I get enough of those in real life), we opted for the comedy.

It might even have been vaguely funny, at least Percy and I could have made fun of the terrible acting and stupid jokes, but there was a couple in the row in front of us who was making out for the _entire movie_. I'm not sure if they ever came up to breathe, she looked like she as trying to suck his face off.

I swallowed, mind wandering as it tried to ignore the...er…_action_ in front of me. I glanced over at Percy to see him stubbornly staring at the screen, eyes not moving a centimeter off the flashing images. The couple in front of us was starting to moan now and my stomach rolled. Honestly, could they get a room? I stood up suddenly and moved to leave. Percy shot me a questioning glance, probably making sure I was alright. He had been reluctant to let me leave the house in the first place. I shrugged and mouthed "bathroom" before scurrying out of the theater.

The brightness of the hallway took a second of getting used to after the darkness of the theater, so I stood for a second in the doorway, blinking slowly. I didn't really have to go the bathroom. It was just the fastest way of getting out of that awkward situation. Then again, if I had stayed there any longer, I would have puked.

Walking over to the bench, I sat down. I glanced mindlessly around the theater hallway, wondering what qualified as enough pee time and what signified something more serious. Anyway, I figured I had about two minutes, which was cool. Two minutes without my own personal National Geographic channel was better than nothing.

Unfortunately, they followed me. As I was about to stand up to head back into the theater, the couple burst through the doors, still somehow attached by the face and stumbling slightly. I blinked and stepped back, getting out of their way, looking away so not to feel nauseous again.

Suddenly a hand brushed past me, so light I almost didn't feel it and, against my better judgment, I looked at the couple. Then I realized how weird they looked. The guy's right hand was trailing by his side, apparently that was what had just touched me, and his other hand looked like it was buried in between his body and hers. The girl's arms were wrapped tightly around the guy, almost as if she were holding him there so he couldn't run away. Their faces were still plastered together, but now the guy's eyes were open and darting around wildly like some scared creature while her eyes were…._di Immortales._

I quickly pulled out my knife, thankful that I had brought it. "Let him go!" I yelled, running forward. And, to my great surprise, she did.

The guy collapsed onto the floor, the mother of all hickies around his mouth, his face pale and a lot older looking than a guy of his shape should look, as if the life had been sucked out of him, which it had. He just laid there, looking more dead than alive, hopefully she hadn't gotten enough of a drink to do any real damage. Hopefully.

I turned around to glare at the girl, waving my knife to ward her off from another attack. My arms throbbed, reminding me that any fight would need to be short and sweet. She _must _have just dropped him because she was startled when I yelled and would return again once she regained some composure.

At first I thought she would be an empousai, but then I realized her legs were both normal and her hair wasn't on fire, but, then again, that's also that's where her normal-ness ended. She was unnaturally pale, so much so that I could almost see through her, the ends of her arms and legs simply seemed to fade away. Her eyes, though, were a dead grey that just screamed in-human. She was pretty though, for being a ghost.

And yet she stayed looking sullenly at me but also strangely obedient. "What are you?" I barked out, trying to sound gruff and not freaked out that she seemed to be obeying my orders.

She offered a stiff little formal curtsy. "If it pleases your lordship, I am a lamia," she said in a simpering little voice that echoed as if we were in a huge room or she was very far away. "I am a spirit trained in the art of illusion by the goddess Hecate, and now I wander the world in search for young men to..." Her voice trailed off as her eyes slid down to glance at the man. I chanced a look too; he seemed to be recovering his color. Good.

"May I finish?" she asked, hollow-dead eyes flashing suddenly. I guess some of the illusions she was using on herself were fading. Her skin was beginning to match her eyes and her hair was starting to float as if she were underwater.

"What?" I asked, not quite believing what I heard.

"May I—"

"I know what you said!" I interrupted, horrified . Why was she asking me? How did I suddenly have command over this vampire woman? How was I able to hold this man's life in my hand? A wild desire filled me for a second; I wanted to say yes, to feel the power of ending someone's life, that control was mine! I knew I had never felt like this before and it felt good.

No! No, no, no! "No!" I yelled, not realizing that I had said it aloud, fiercely squishing that bloodlust out of my head.

The lamia was furious, ripping herself out of the last illusions she still wore and emerging as something that vaguely reminded me of a serpiente, but much less solid looking; her legs two thick trunks of snake tails. Her eyes, now instead of dead grey were a sickly yellow, like that color that forms around a bruise. Lunging at me, we collided and rolled, proving that she was very solid.

"No!" I repeated, trying to jab her with my knife to find that she had pinned my arms to my side. Cursing silently at my stupidity, I kicked whatever I could, rolling my head in hopes that she wouldn't try anything on me. "Let me go!" I yelled out of reflex.

And suddenly, she did. She was blasted about six feet away from me, as if some force had pushed her there, clutching her hands as if she had been burned. I stared at her panting and she glared back hatefully.

"Go to Hades," I growled and she disappeared with a hiss into shadows going just where I told her.

I slumped on the floor, still panting. What on earth was going on? How did I get _that_ power? Well, I had always had a way with ghosts but not like this, not in the servant-master sort of way. Rolling over slightly I saw that the unlucky boyfriend was stirring now. Thank the gods. That was not something I would have wanted to try to explain to any police officer. Why was there a dead guy next to me? Oh, I don't know officer, just lucky I guess.

I then felt a nudge on my right side. It felt like a polished business shoe and it was unnaturally cold. Swallowing back a threatened curse, I looked up into the face that I should have known was behind this all along.

"Hey, dad," I muttered, re-grabbing me knife and staggering up to a standing position, pain that had left during the fight, surging back into my arms. Being on the ground when Hades was near was not a good plan.

"Nico," he said coldly, dark grey eyes, so much like mine, regarding me. He was in a black business suit with a grey undershirt, off-setting his pale skin. His shoulder length hair was slicked back and flawlessly parted in a way that would have looked like, on anybody else, a surfer guy trying to dress up, but on him made him look like an evil accountant. Which, in a way, he was. "I am glad to see you well."

"Yeah, you know, your average monster run-in. No sweat," I replied, keeping my voice relaxed. I would not be the first to break, dad. I've played this game before.

"Really," said Hades with mock interest, arching a delicately curved eyebrow on his cold face.

"Uh-huh," I replied evenly, "you know, it's weird that this place is called Normal when so many un-normal things happen here."

"Is it now?" replied Hades and I could almost hear his teeth grinding. He knew I was messing with him.

"Yeah," I continued, "so I guess it's almost _normal_ now that you show up so conveniently. Right after I defeat a ghost."

Hades snarled slightly and began to pace. I hid a smirk, he broke first. "You disappoint me, Nico." I had heard this before and sighed, slouching a little bit, finding a comfortable position to listen to the rant again. "At every turn, every monster, every fight, all I see is a weakling."

"Hey," I protested, "I fought a giant all by myself and—"

"And you did not kill her!" cut off Hades, glaring at me. "A son of mine is decisive and judgment is final. Your weakness is in your mercy."

"Mercy isn't weakness!" I spluttered back. I knew my dad had a heart that was about two sizes too small, but this was ridiculous.

"And the Baliskos," continued my dad.

"Percy and I fought it together." I cut him off this time. "I told Percy about the eyes and got in that blow on the jaw."

"_He_ killed it," said my father interrupting in turn. "You were too weak to finish the job!"

"I was tired after the fighting the giant," I protested, "and I was poisoned by its venom that was _killing_ me."

"Ha! For the Ghost King, strength is boundless if he knows how to use it."

"Wha- what are you talking about?" I asked, taken back a bit, a quiet thought forming in my mind.

"Why haven't you summoned any spirits recently?" he asked, responding a question with a question.

"They have their own agendas. You know that," I snapped back, "and I fight my own battles."

"But are you not the 'Ghost King'?" he asked, mouth twisting into a malicious smirk, turning his eyes on me and stopping his pacing.

I glared at him and everything clicked. "You set me up!" I yelled, anger rolling in my stomach. "You sent all those monsters here to attack me!"

"Well not here, specifically," said Hades with false modesty, still smiling his horrible smile. "We were all ready for you in New Orleans and a dozen other places, but here was just as well."

"You were trying to get me to summon ghosts!" I accused, glaring into my dad's eyes.

"Ah, not quite," said Hades patronizingly and then his face hardened, the games were over. "I sent you those challenges in hopes that you would recognize what you are, a son of Hades, a Ghost King."

My anger drained out of me, replaced by hurt. "But I am…," I insisted meekly, head whirling wildly. What was he talking about?

"No," he said firmly, displeasure painted all over his face. "You recognize the title but it does not recognize you."

"What?"

"Did you not feel that desire for control during the fights? The desire to control death?" asked Hades, questions cutting me like my knife. "Did you not want that control? Do you not want it even now?"

"No," I muttered. Even though I was confused, I knew that much. There was a pause.

"What did you say?" asked Hades, though I knew he hadn't misheard me.

"No!" I repeated, jaw jutting stubbornly forward.

Moaning his frustration, Hades began to pace again. "If only you were your sister," he muttered.

"If you think Bianca would have give in to that urge or whatever, you're dead wrong," I contradicted.

Hade shot me a look and, for a second, I doubted what I had said. No, Bianca never would have done that. Besides, she was a Huntress, she wouldn't have to. Right?

"It is the fate of every child of Hades," insisted my father.

"Fate with a capital 'F' or lowercase 'f'?" I countered.

"It doesn't make a difference," said Hades, throwing his arms above his head, "you cannot fight either one."

"I'm going to sure as Hades try," I responded, my mind completely made up. I didn't know what it was actually decided _on_, but I was going to fight.

"Nico…" Hades stopped what he was going to say, and, for a second, I almost thought I saw a mixture of sorrow and worry in his eyes. And something else, but no, it couldn't have been. "Then it will kill you," he finished, face warping back into the stern mask I was so familiar with. And he was gone.

Everything rushed back to me. I was in a movie theater, sitting on a bench, watching as the theater I had been in quickly emptied out. I can't say if I had left the theater or if everything has just frozen, or even how long that had all taken. All I knew is I knew where I was now. And, at any rate, the boyfriend was gone.

"Hey, Nico," said a voice, and I looked up, gaze unfocused until it locked on the smiling face of Percy.

"Hey," I said, trying to pump some cheer into my voice and I stood up.

"You missed the rest of the movie," said Percy as he walked over and stopped, sharp eyes looking at my face. "You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost," he joked weakly.

I could only nod and carefully clear my throat. "I'm going home," I muttered, hearing a slight quiver in my voice, before bolting out of the theater, barely hearing Percy's "Nico?"

I ran back to my home, choking back sobs and running like I was drunk, stumbling every few steps. That emotion, that other emotion I had seen in my dad's eyes; it was love. And if it _was_ love, what on earth did that mean?

A/N: What's that sound? Is it be? Could it be a plot? Yes! Thank you for reading everyone, this is where it starts rolling. Sorry that this chapter is short, but it really needed to stand alone. Love it? Hate it? I don't care, just review it!


	7. Grim Grinning Ghosts

Thank you so much to everyone who watched, reviewed, and favorited this story. I cherish each and everyone one of your responses! =]

A/N: Still still _still _not mine!

I was half-thankful that Percy didn't try following me home. It would have been nice to have someone to talk to, to offer some comfort, but I didn't even know what I would say. What _could_ I say? My dad basically said I had to become some maniac or else?

So I sat for a long time in my dark kitchen, staring at the shadows of the tree branches across my kitchen table, watching as they bobbed in the wind. The ghosts were still nearby and there were more now.

And what about what I had seen in my dad's eyes? That flash of something I had rarely seen there. I saw it when my dad looked at Persephone or sometimes when he talked about my mom, but never at me. That love was what really scared me. Perhaps that isn't the right word. Worried, maybe? If my dad said all those things to get me to realize my fate, trying to care for me, then it must be serious. Really serious.

My face felt crusty from all the tears and my throat was dry. I felt completely drained and I almost wished I could blame that on the fact that I was still recovering from the Baliskos venom, but I knew that wasn't the case. My body felt like lead and I just wanted to sit in the dark little house and wait for whatever would happen to happen.

_Giving up, huh?_ asked a voice in my head, one that sounded a lot like my dad. _That's it then._

_You want me to do something_, _don't you,_ I retorted angrily, rubbing my temples. Great, arguing with myself, what next?

_Do I_? taunted the voice, fading away.

Slamming my fists onto the table in frustration, I let out a quiet snarl. That voice, whatever its intended purpose, had jolted me out of my stupor. I needed answers, and the only one who would tell me the truth, who even _knew_ all of the truth, was dead. Fortunately, dead things were my specialty. I needed to find a graveyard.

Half-bloods get special talents from their parents; Percy can never be lost while on water, Thalia can call down lightning bolts from the sky, I can find where a bunch of dead bodies are close together. You know, useful stuff like that.

The night was the darkest I'd seen in a long time. There was no moon and the clouds hung heavy in the sky. Some type of Mist seemed to cling to everything too, drifting around the corners. The brisk fall air helped move me along; thankfully the nearest cemetery was close by. Swinging the hastily packed shopping bag of food and drinks in one hand, I scowled at the shovel in the other.

Sure I could have just _forced_ the earth apart making the hole necessary for the ceremony, but, then again, I would have been too tired to perform the ceremony itself. I'd almost resigned myself to doing just that, after looking around my house for something that I could use to dig with, when I peeked into the shed next to my house –it was too small to be called a garage—and found the shovel, sitting all by itself in the empty shed, as if waiting for me. I had frowned; a hunch dear old dad knew I was going to try this floating in my head.

Now walking down the street, the ghosts still followed; those of the more demonic variety cackling to each other every few steps, the more lost souls type just floating mournfully, but then again, that's what they normally do. It sort of felt like I had an entourage, and I can tell you now, I didn't like it. Note to self: never become famous.

Anyway, after wandering down a couple back streets (I had avoided the main roads so as not to be seen by cops), and cutting through a few backyards. I stumbled upon the Holy Cross Cemetery. It was a tiny little cemetery. The road through it looped back on itself before coming back to where it originally started, the modest white mausoleum huddled off to the side and the graves, only about 150 or so, arranged in neat plots. Beyond the cemetery stretched a vast dead field. Once it might have held crops, when it wasn't, you know, fall, but now it just sat.

Regripping my two loads, I entered the graveyard, looking for a patch of empty ground big enough to dig my hole. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flicker of white much closer than the other flickers of white. I turned to look and saw the hollow face of a man, much more solid than the average ghost. Probably a skeleton, I thought, with the animus temporarily put back in. It looked like it could have been a miner at some point, ghostly face over the skeleton smudged with coal, ragged clothes blackened as well. It carried a shovel as it walked mechanically next to me.

Scowling at it, I turned to face forward. "I didn't summon you," I muttered, eyes roaming the gloomy areas for a suitable spot.

The apparition, of course, did not reply.

Finally, near a tree close to the middle of the graveyard, I found a patch of empty grass perfect for digging. Setting the bad of food on the ground and gripping the shovel in both hands, I turned to glare at the ghost who had already started digging. "I don't need your help," I said, rather rudely. It kept digging. "Return to the earth," I commanded. It didn't. Heaving a frustrated sigh, I decided that as long as he was willing to work, why not let him? "I'm not paying union expenses or anything," I muttered, not waiting for a response that wouldn't come before I started digging as well.

The minutes ticked by, the only record of time passing was the rhythmic thumps of our shovels and the steady deepening hole. The night was otherwise creepily silent, everything muffled, like the world was covered by a blanket. No animal noises, no car noises, nothing. It made me almost want to yell, just to make a racket. The hair on the back of my neck was sticking straight up by the time I stopped for a break, hands raw, not quite healed arms aching. Something powerful was turning its attention to the little graveyard, and this time, fortunately, it wasn't Kronos.

I leaned against the edge of the hole and tried to swallow in spite of my dry throat. The skeleton continued to work methodically, looking as if he could dig all night, which he probably could. He bumped my foot with his shovel and looked up at me, almost seeming reproachful. "Alright, alright sorry," I said, almost managing a chuckle, pulling myself out of the hole, clearly I was interrupting a master at work. Looking over the hole, I realized we had dug a lot in the roughly half hour we had been here, already when I had stood in the hole it was up to my waist.

"Actually, that should be enough," I quasi-commanded, not expecting the skeleton to listen. To my great surprise, he did. Offering my hand down to the miner, almost without thinking, I had the unpleasant experience of feeling the rotting flesh/ skeleton bone combo against my hand as I heaved the apparition out. For something so, well, dead and ghostly, it was pretty heavy.

Rubbing my hand on my pant leg to try and get the weird feeling off of it, I turned and began to pull out the food and drinks out of shopping bag, preparing for the ceremony. "Thanks." I muttered, lining everything up in easy reach. "You probably want some food, but sorry, I can't. It's not for you," I said shortly, boring my eyes into the miner ghost. I was thankful for the help, but not that thankful. The ghost seemed to shrug, still clutching his shovel. Taking that as an agreement, I turned back to my work. One last sweep of my supplies and everything was ready.

I stood erect over the grave-hole, food surrounding me and inhaled deeply through my nose. The rich tang of fresh earth washed my senses and I exhaled. This was what I was good at, something I could do without even thinking. Sure, it was raising the dead, but it still felt good to do something I was practically born for.

Lifting the 3 liter bottle of root beer off the ground, I began, "Let the dead taste again. Let them rise and take this offering. Let them remember." Methodically, I worked my way through my small feast of food; emptying them all into the hole, repeating the summons as I dropped each thing in. A bag of chips followed the root beer, with a package of Oreos after that. Another 3 liter bottle of root beer and a long Avanti's gondola finished off the "meal". A feast fit for a ghost.

The air around me grew heavy, already more ghosts were coming, and I hadn't even started to speak Greek yet! Carefully easing my blade out of my jacket, I began the Greek chanting. The miner ghost, I noticed, had moved to the other side of the hole and was standing guard, holding his shovel like a staff in front of him.

_Great, a guard-ghost, it's like a guard dog, but a lot less expensive to feed and a lot scarier. Great for parties!_ I thought wryly, Greek flowing out of my mouth continuing the summons. Well, at least I don't have to watch both sides of the pit, I added honestly, waving my knife as I sensed spirits crowding around my back. I kept my face to the hole, beginning to repeat the summons and the number of ghosts in the area grew by the second. I know I was getting more powerful as I got older and had more experience summoning, but this was ridiculous, surely this was about half of the fields of Asphodel now.

They retreated from my knife, hissing angrily as I continued to wave it, jabbing it behind my back blindly and then I sensed it. Sensed her. I looked to my right, chant still flowing as her white form, seemingly more pure than the other spirits around her, floated toward the pit. The miner ghost and I both let her pass and she drank, becoming more tangible; well as tangible as a ghost can be.

Straightening up, she glanced around at the seething mass of the dead surrounding us. "Be gone," she commanded, and they were.

"How did you do that?" I spluttered, stopping my chanting, and why hadn't I tried that?

"Street cred," she replied simply and I smiled. Yep, that's my sister, Bianca. She looked the same as when I talked to her last, Huntress outfit and blue jeans glowing faintly, a green cap tilted jauntily on her dark hair. With a jolt, I realized I was taller than her. It was weird, being taller than someone I'd always looked up to, pretty much literally. She smiled back at me and a flash of grief swamped me.

"Nico," she murmured, "you've grown."

"Yeah," I said, feeling the moment of sorrow ebb away. I don't know if I would ever get used to her not being there. Bianca reached up as if to touch my hair, but then stopped before she got there, both of us knew what would happen if she tried.

"I know, it's long," I muttered, feeling my hair somewhat self-consciously. "I've been meaning to get it cut…"

"But you've been busy," Bianca finished, letting her hand fall back to her side. "Tell me about it."

So I did. I told her everything, from when I first came to Normal to the events of tonight. As I talked, Bianca didn't interrupt but her expression grew more and more worried as I spoke. When I finally ended my story, she let out a quiet moan. "Nico," she whispered, eyes looking at me as if _I_ were the ghost. "I'm so sorry. You're life is about to get a lot more complicated."

"Great, just what I need," I muttered, looking away from my sister for the first time since I called her to scowl at the ground.

I could almost hear Bianca give a sympathetic wince. "I wish I had good news for you," she said.

I looked back at her. "Just tell me."

She looked at me hard for a second and took a deep breath. "What Hades told you about being a Ghost King, it's not just you, all the children of Hades have to endure it." I nodded, that made sense. "Normally it happens around the 16th birthday. The ghost summoning powers increase tenfold as well as the other powers such as sensing when people die, moving the earth, and just generally drawing the attention of ghosts."

Bianca then sighed, eyes worriedly glancing at the slowly returning throng of ghosts before looking back at me. "Something also begins to happen up here," she said, tapping her temple with her pointer finger. "I don't know what causes it, maybe it's being around the dead so much, but children of Hades start to crave control; the control of ghosts, of other people, of death."

"Control death?" I spluttered, mind reeling at all the information. This couldn't be happening to me.

She nodded miserably. "You know Hitler, right? He was a son of Hades." I blanched, feeling the pit of my stomach dropped out as if I were riding a roller coaster. "If any human, demigod or otherwise, controlled death, he did." Her eyes dropped to the ground. "Others have tried to fight it..," she admitted, letting her sentence trail off.

"But?" I prompted, voice shaking slightly, as she continued to study the ground.

"But they were either driven mad by the effort or finally succumbed," she ended in a whisper, a ghostly tear trickling down her cheek as she looked back up at me.

I stood numb, not knowing what to think. Half-formed plans and ideas bounced around my head, but all I could do was stand terrified of myself, of what I might become.

"I'm sorry, Nico," she said, reaching out to touch my arm, her hand going straight through it, raising goose bumps where it passed.

"It's not your fault," I replied numbly, because it wasn't. I don't think it was my dad's fault either. Sometimes humans and gods aren't meant to mix. I sighed dejectedly, looking over the gathering ghosts, trying to decide which fate was the less horrible of the two.

A stubborn thought suddenly burst into my head_, Just because I'm born into this fate, I'm just going to let it happen? No._ The firm answer jolted me out of my numbness, and I knew it was right. _Hades, no!_

"Bianca," came my voice, sounding hoarse, as if I had just been yelling, but it was also determined. "You said others tried to fight it, how did they fight it?"

"Nico, weren't you listening?" she asked, face slightly panicked. But her eyes held a different story. "You can't—"

"I know there's a way," I said, feeling as if a fire was coursing through me and I reached out to grab onto her shoulders. For a brief moment, the tiniest fraction of a second, my hands were holding Bianca's shoulders before they slipped through her body. She stumbled back, eyes holding an odd mixture of emotions: awe, respect, shock, and fear.

I stood in surprise myself. What had just happened? "Please tell me," I whispered numbly, shooting Bianca a brief pleading look before dropping my head down to stare at my hands.

I heard her swallow, trying to regain composure. "It's okay, Nico," she murmured, "and you're right, there is a way."

I looked up at her, hope burning in my chest despite myself. Face tight with worry, she began to speak, "It has been tried many times and never accomplished. Those who fail end up much like those who tried to fight it alone. You must go to the oracle and get the prophecy of the Ghost King. You will have to go on a quest which will probably end in failure."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," I joked weakly, pretty much decided that I would take the quest anyway.

Bianca met my eyes, ignoring my comment, face serious and reached for me again, but stopped herself. "Nico, please don't try this."

I let out a frustrated sound. "What would you have me do?" I demanded as I took a step forward. "I don't want to end up running around killing people!"

"You could be a hermit," she suggested wildly, "away from everyone and everything!"

I stared at her. "Bianca, what would you do?"

She glanced down again, eyes hopping from shoe to rock to leaf. "I-I, well, the burden of the Ghost King falls most heavily on the male children of Hades..."

"Bianca," I said, trying to sound stern, but then my voice cracked. "Please. Tell me, what would _you_ do?" I repeated. On the one hand, I really wanted to take the quest, it was the only chance I had of beating this thing, but then again Bianca was the more level-headed of the two of us and if she wouldn't have gone through with the quest, then it was probably a bad idea. Well, worse than the average impossible quest.

She sighed and straightened herself, her eyes firmly meeting my own, her jaw jutting forward stubbornly. "I would do it."

I nodded in reply. Just what I needed to hear. "Thank you," I said, trying to smile bravely.

"Nico…you're growing up." She smiled back at me, her eyes flashed proudly. "I love you."

"I love you, too," I replied, wishing for the thousandth time I could just hug my sister.

Bianca paused, looking like she was thinking something over, smile sliding off her face, before she said, "Dad loves you too."

I opened my mouth to reply. _Really? He has a funny way of showing it._ "And he's proud of you too," she added, cutting me off before I could even speak.

"He-he is?" I stuttered.

"Yes," she replied, half-smile creeping across her face, "that's why he sent all those monsters. He was trying to help you realize your fate. I think he was hoping that if you just accepted it, it might be easier on you. But…" She paused and her smile widened again. "I think he always knew you weren't going to take it lying down. You're too much like father, that's why. You're too stubborn." She gave a wicked smile.

"Hey!"

"That's why father sent him to help you for the ceremony," she continued, face mischievous, before nodding toward the miner ghost who still stood nearby, keeping a watch on the ghosts that were steadily creeping forward. I looked over at the miner and he gave a solemn nod before taking a swing at the approaching ghosts who scattered, chittering angrily.

Bianca gave a sigh, smile starting to fall off her face again. "I need to go soon, but know this: your quest _will_ be dangerous and I'm not guaranteeing that everything will come out okay, but if anyone succeeds at this quest, it will be you, Nico de Angelo."

"Thank you, Bianca," I said, feeling a tear run down my face.

"Goodbye, Nico," she said, her voice growing fainter as she returned to the Underworld.

"Goodbye," I echoed to her slowly vanishing form.

The miner ghost seemed to nod again before going rigid and collapsing, bones rattling, a faint vapor seeping off of it. The food in the hole was gone, as it always was after a ceremony so I used my powers to pull the earth back to smoothness. I almost collapsed myself from the effort, but it took a lot less time than filling the hole with a shovel would have. And anyway, I needed to get back to my house. I had to pack.

And the plot continues! Hopefully if you were confused, stuff makes more sense now. So, did you love it? Hate it? I want to hear from ya! Review please!


	8. Surprise Symphony

A/N: I'm so sorry for the long wait, but here's the next chapter for your patience!

Disclamier: Indeed, even after this long wait, none of the charatcers are mine.

Chapter 8: Surprise Symphony

I woke up around ten, feeling remarkably refreshed after raising the dead the night, er, early morning before. Stretching, I blinked at the sunlight, before my mind kick-started into action. I scrambled out of bed, noting briefly that my arms were no longer throbbing, and began to rush around my room, grabbing things I would need to take on my journey.

Eventually, I stood before my kitchen table, examining my pile of stuff. It was a fairly modest stash, to be honest. I didn't know how far I would be traveling, when I would be coming back, or when I would have time to take a break, so I pretty much prepared for everything.

Hopefully it'll all fit in my backpack. Probably not.

_At any rate, I probably didn't need _two_ packs of Oreos or a whole liter of soda,_ I considered, putting those things back where I found them. _I need to call Percy to make sure the food gets out of here before it all goes bad—don't want anything growing on it_. Besides, what college student _wouldn't_ take up the offer of free food?

Slinging my book bag onto the table, I began to grab the things I really needed before stuffing them in; a change of clothes, food, cell phone, a small sleeping bag, food, shower stuff, my journal, food, i.d., my new debit card, more food. My hand stopped as it was about to toss something plastic into my backpack. I had picked it up without even thinking.

Glancing down at the object, I knew what it was before I even looked. The Hades figurine. I rubbed my thumb over his face, feeling the familiar featured brush against my skin. His face wasn't like my dad's; the figurine had a little pointed goatee and a bald head, but he stood upright and proud, just like my dad.

_You have a weird way of showing your approval, dad_, I thought, staring at the figure. _I wish I could…_And then even my thoughts trailed off, I didn't know what I wished from my dad, from fate, from myself. Hopefully the oracle would clear some things up. I snorted. _Yeah right._

I sighed and set the little model gently on top of all my stuff. I had a choice, but when it really boiled down to it, there was no choice at all. I had to do this.

Suddenly, my bag started to vibrate and beep. I let out a moan.

_Great, I _would_ put the cell phone on the bottom_, I thought, as I pulled everything out of the bag I had just finished packing.

Finally I found the phone, just before it finished ringing, answering it without looking at who the call was from. "Hello?"

"Hey, Nico?" came Percy's voice.

"Hey, Percy," I said, trying to repack my bag one-handed. "I need to talk to you—."

"Yeah, I need to talk to you too," said Percy, cutting me off. "Can you come to Braden Auditorium? I have to show you something."

"Now?" I asked, somewhat confused. _What on earth did Percy have to show me?_

"Yeah, it's urgent," replied Percy and hung up.

_That was weird_, I thought, hanging up as well and slipping my phone in my pocket. _Maybe Percy found a monster,_ I mused_, but then why would he have bothered to call me? Wouldn't he have just taken it down by himself? Maybe it's something big,_ I thought, starting to rush, grabbing my knife as I swung out the door.

_But Percy didn't sound worried_, I thought, trotting down the street toward the college campus. _He sounded almost_ calm.

I shook my head, frowning at my paranoia, but not slowing down my pace. Better to be safe than sorry. I will never doubt my instincts again.

The student center was teaming with students as I approached, so I tried to act like I knew what I was doing. It was a Monday and, apparently, passing time, as students milled groggily about, clutching coffee mugs and trying to get to their next classes. Slipping into the building, I dodged clumps of people and headed toward the auditorium, scanning for Percy.

_He didn't mean _in_ Braden Auditorium_. I glanced around the sitting area nervously. I mean, I wasn't beyond breaking and entering, a lot of quests tended to lead beyond locked doors, but I liked to do it when no one was around. You know, _not_ during broad daylight during passing period at a busy university campus.

I waited for a few more minutes, scanning the heads for the idyllic black hair of my friend, but when he didn't show up, I sighed. _Great, he _did_ mean in Braden Auditorium_. I turned around to examine the three sets of double doors that led into the theater, almost subconsciously feeling the hilt of my knife.

Students continued to mill around the area, moving through doors to my right which led to the outside as cars circled to pick up people. There was no way I was getting in without being seen. I swallowed nervously. _Just act like you know what you're doing. Hopefully the door's unlocked, _and I pushed my way in_._

I was through the doorway—they _were_ unlocked—and into a sort of antechamber. There, a weird staircase thing led me down to a series of doors. I picked one of them at random and opened it as well.

I found myself in the auditorium that Percy had shown me the other day, yellow chairs arching around a stage; two more floors of chairs hovered over me. I was about five rows back from the stage.

"Nico, over here!" called Percy's voice and I turned to the stage. There stood Percy, a confused expression on his face, arms crossed over his chest.

"Hey," I said, before climbing over the seats to reach the stage.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" asked Percy.

"Oh," I said blinking, pausing with my leg in the air, about to go over the last row of chairs before the stage—_I thought he wanted to tell me something_—but then shrugged it off and kept moving. "I have to go. I've sort of been given a quest."

"Soon?" asked Percy, hauling me up on the stage.

"Yeah, like now," I said, trying to offer a smile. It would be hard to leave Percy. He was like the big brother I never had.

"Oh, right," said Percy, giving me a worried smile back. _Worries like a big brother too_, I thought. "Good luck on your quest." He grabbed my shoulder and squeezed. "Call if you need me, okay?" He added, letting go and slinging his backpack up on his shoulder.

_Yeah, Percy's a great one for goodbyes, really knows how to draw them out,_ I thought sarcastically. "Wait," I started, memory catching me. "Didn't you need to tell me something?"

"Uh, no," said Percy, turning to look, arching an eyebrow at me. "If you recall, you called me to wait here."

"No I didn't, you called me."

We stared at each other for a second.

"This is stupid. Look, I can prove you called me," I said, pulling my phone out and flipping to "Received Calls". "See that's….not your number."

I looked up at Percy and his face was frowning slightly, mind moving a mile a minute (not as fast as Annabeth's, of course, but you get the idea).

"And you called me on the landline through the school," muttered Percy, body starting to tense.

"What's going on here?" I said, voice ringing slightly and looking around, drawing my knife.

Suddenly an eerie laugh echoed around the enormous theater, sending shivers down my spine. This was like classic Joker laugh, hair raising, insane, and completely evil.

Percy had pulled out Riptide now and was looking around too. We unconsciously moved together, back to back, facing opposite directions so as not to get attacked from behind. We were close enough so we could watch each other's backs, but not so close so we couldn't still move around.

And then suddenly the theater was plunged into darkness. I froze, frantically waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, but there was nothing to adjust to. The theater didn't have any windows to the outside, nor did it seem to have any of the phantom lights that sometimes are left on in big rooms.

"Stay close, Nico," came Percy's voice out of the dark.

I nodded but remembered he couldn't see me. "Right," I said, taking a deep, calming breath. This was my element, I reminded myself, fighting back the sinking suspicion that something very bad was about to happen.

I exhaled a slow breath and then inhaled through my nose, allowing my other senses to open up, ears becoming hyper sensitive and letting my form become more shadow like. It was like I was trying to shadow travel, only I didn't fully step _into_ the shadows, I just kinda stepped _among_ them. And it wasn't really like I stepped anywhere; I just sorta let myself go. I think it was kinda like what would happen if I tried on my dad's helm. But it wasn't quite like that because I wasn't 100% shadow. Ugh, it's hard to explain. Let me just say that I've never done it before.

At any rate, as I did whatever I did, everything began to take on more shades of grey. It wasn't that it got lighter; I just was able to sense things better. Maybe it's because I was more of a shadow myself; I could tell what was a shadow and what was substance. I don't know. Like I said, it was confusing. All you really need to know is that I could sort of see now.

"Hey, I'm going to try and find the lights," said my voice off to my left. Now, I've heard some weird things, but having your own voice come from something other than you is a _very_ weird experience.

"Nico, don't go by yourself," said Percy, and I heard him wandering off, trying to follow where my voice had come from.

"Percy, that wasn't me," I said, using my new senses to guess where Percy was.

"What?" said Percy, completely confused.

"Yeah, don't follow my voice," I said, still scanning the area, not really paying attention to what I was saying, then winced. "I mean the first voice," I amended "Just hold still. I'm trying…there."

Another form moved around the stage. It was weird though, it moved, so I knew it was alive, but I couldn't feel its shape or even what it was made of.

And then it all clicked. Mist. "Percy, we've got a monster," I said reclutching my knife. The creepy laugh rang out through the auditorium again. Point one for the Ghost King. "I can't tell what it is, but I think it can see us."

"Okay," came Percy's voice, trying to keep his cool. "Stay there and I'll come to you. Keep talking so I can find you."

"Alright," came my voice that wasn't my voice again before I could say anything. "Just follow my voice. I'm right over here. Make sure you don't fall off the stage."

"Percy, don't follow that voice! That's not me," I yelled, starting to panic slightly as I saw Percy's form head toward the Mist covered thing.

"Don't listen to that thing, Percy," said the voice again, imitating my emotions perfectly, sounding just as worried as I did.

Percy stopped moving and flicked the sword in his hand nervously. He was about half way between me and the thing. "Good," I said at the same time as the other me spluttered, "You're actually listening to that thing?"

"Both of you, stop talking," commanded Percy. I could sense him looking every which way, trying to see something in the pitch darkness. I took a step forward, trying to reach Percy and he swung his sword in my direction.

"No moving either. Now, one of you is a monster and then other is real," he declared. _Thank you, Captain Obvious_, I thought, feeling ornery. "I just need to figure out which one," he added as an afterthought, his sword flickered from side to side, roughly pointed at where I was and where that thing was.

"Ask me something," I blurted out. "Something only the real Nico would know."

"Okay, okay," said Percy. "Let me think." Silence reigned as Percy thought. _Come on, Percy. Ask just the right question,_ I thought, wishing sons of Hades had ESP. "Got one: How many attack points does Hades have?"

"Huh?" said the other me.

"5000!" I crowed, running toward Percy. I knew my Mythomagic would come in handy some day!

"Yes!" said Percy, whipping his sword around to face the source of the other Nico voice.

Suddenly the other voice roared, a sound of frustration and rage, and finally its form solidified into something vaguely dog-like. It bounced around us, moving too fast for me to shadow-see.

"Where is it?" yelled Percy, sword flicking nervously, standing perfectly still to try and hear where the monster was.

"I don't know, it's moving too fast," I muttered, eyes flicking around, catching glimpses of the beast as it moved.

"You can see the thing?" asked Percy, an odd mixture of emotions in his voice.

"Sort of," I admitted, gritting my teeth as the thing started bounding forward. "It's coming. Head on. Now!"

We both swung down at its face, gaping mouth clear to me before it jumped over us, laughing madly.

"Apply directly to the forehead!" it cackled, swiping a giant paw at us.

"Behind—! Duck!" I barely had time to yell the order before following it myself, dodging the swipe of the huge paw.

Unfortunately, I heard Percy grunt off to my left as he was swept away. The monster let out a roar, Percy must have punched it or something. Not that I saw it happen, but the monster was still there, so, yep, he couldn't have hit it with Riptide. Anyway, Percy's body landed with a thump and rolled slightly. And Riptide flew a few feet away.

Percy moaned. _Good, at least he was conscious_. The monster ran forward, closing in on Percy and leaped.

"Percy, above you!" I yelled, running forward with my knife above my head. I slid the last couple feet in order to get my knife underneath the falling monster. I got there just in time to drive my knife into the monster's throat.

And my knife stuck deep into the side of its neck. As a note, the part that sucks about Stygian ice blades is that the weapon actually has to be pulled out in order for the soul to be released to the Styx. That means no insta-kills like with celestial bronze. I pulled fruitlessly at the knife, trying to get it to come out, but it was wedged in tight and the monster pulled away, roaring in pain, retreating a few steps. I stood, blocking the monster from Percy's prone form, knees trembling from almost being eaten.

"You have been a constant annoyance," said a voice somewhere between mine and Percy's with a hint of a third voice thrown in the mix –one I couldn't quite identify. "I am this close to killing the son of Poseidon, when the worthless son of Hades shows up and completely ruins my plans."

"Good for me, then," I said. Percy hadn't moved since his groan earlier. He must have bumped his head when he fell. ADD had my senses on alert as I tried to think of a weapon I could use. My eyes flicked to my side, picking up the form of Riptide, close enough to be really irritating, but too far away to be any help.

"No, bad for you," hissed the thing, a wild cackle bubbling at the back of its throat, "because now you'll be the first to die."

Then I did something really stupid. I ran _toward_ the thing. With Percy out of commission and his sword out of reach, my closest weapon was the one stuck in the monster's throat_. If I had celestial bronze! _I thought for the thousandth time, as I grabbed the knife. _But then where would the fun be?_ Part of my mind wanted to know before I mentally slapped it and returned to the matter at hand.

The monster was about as surprised by what I had done as I was. It stood stunned at my first tug, but by the second heave, it sprung into action. It shrieked and bucked and I held on for dear life, feeling my grip slip from my knife as I scrambled for a hand hold on the thing's fur.

My hand was sticky with monster blood, but I barely noticed. I locked my legs around its body and leaned over so I was basically hanging off the beast, using both hands to search for the knife.

"Just give up, Ghost King," snarled the thing, pausing in its bucking, shaking its body like it just had a bath, trying to dislodge me that way. "You're not going to win."

"This is coming from the guy with a knife hanging from his neck," I said, not stopping in my search. My mind was almost distracted by the familiar-ness of the voice, but my hand brushed something even more familiar. The knife hilt.

I grabbed onto the blade and the monster starting bucking again, letting out a roar. My body was being jerked around like a rag doll and my legs were getting tired from holding on. Fortunately, my knife gave out before I did.

My knife slipped free and I let go, tumbling to the ground and rolling. I quickly got to my feet, preparing for one more attack however unlikely.

I turned in time to see the monster keel over, landing with a thud as its soul slowly began to exit its body. "I hope you enjoyed winning this time, Ghost King," it rasped mockingly, energy completely depleted, "because you will lose in the end. They all do." Its cackle faded as its soul disappeared into the Styx. The body would linger for awhile, but the soul, what made it alive, was long gone.

That wasn't what was really important, though, I needed to find the light switch. Maybe by finding the light, I would keep all those wonderful ADD thoughts that had tackled me after the little gem that the monster left with me back.

I jogged to the side of the stage, hand reaching for the wall, finding it, and beginning my search for a light switch. I found something that might have been one and poked it experimentally. A couple lights on the stage flashed on, nearly blinding me.

I examined myself quickly, no new injuries that I could see, but my body seemed to be cloaked by this weird substance, almost as if I was wearing a veil. I shook myself and it fell away, creeping off to join the other shadows. I turned, shivering slightly, to look over the stage.

"Oh my gods," I said, feeling like the ground had dropped out underneath me. There on the stage lay Brandon, Percy's roommate, a jagged cut in his neck, his blood on my knife. But no, I blinked, and where Brandon lay was now a strange hyena thing with bale gaping eyes and a strange ridged mouth. What kind of monster was that?

I blinked one final time and it was gone. I reclutched my knife, steadying myself before jogging over to Percy's side. I felt battered all over as I settled by his side to give a rough examination. A giant bruise was already starting to form over his left eye and it was turning into some truly impressive colors.

"Hey, Percy, wake up," I said, lightly tapping his shoulder. "You missed all the fun. Time to get up Sleeping Beauty."

His eyes fluttered open and he scowled at me. "Never call me Sleeping Beauty again."

"I won't for awhile," I said, offering a hand to help him up. "You're going to have some really impressive bruises."

"Thanks," he said dryly, taking the offered hand and moaning as he stood. "What happened?"

"I fought the monster," I said matter-of-factly. "Did you know your roommate was a hyena?"

Percy stared at me for a second and then blinked. "Well, that does explain his fascination with Africa and his love of raw meat." He paused and nodded. "Yeah, I believe it."

"Well, I guess this means you'll have your own room now," I said, glancing over to the spot where the Brandon-monster was.

"I guess," said Percy, somewhat distracted. His hand was up on his forehead, poking the bruise experimentally as he winced.

"Do you need help getting somewhere?" I asked.

"Nah, I'm good," said Percy. "Tis merely a flesh wound!"

I chuckled, shaking my head. Yeah, Percy was going to be just fine. He patted his pockets absentmindedly, and pulled the Riptide pen out, double-checking that he had it, before putting it away. "You really have to go?" he asked, looking at me, picking up the conversation as if it hadn't been interrupted by a freak monster attack.

"Yeah," I said. "You can have all the food I left at my house."

Percy's eyes lit up at the prospect. "Well, that should make you leaving easier to bear," he joked and then became more serious. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"I'll miss you. Check back whenever you feel like it."

There was a pause.

"Got a location in mind?" he asked.

"Well, I need to actually get the quest, so…"

"You need to find Rachel," Percy finished.

"Yep," I said, grimacing slightly. She always seemed a little weird to me.

"Have fun with that," smirked Percy.

I scowled at him and then smiled, waving one more goodbye –there wasn't anything left to say. It was back to my house to grab my things and then off to Chicago. I had to visit the Oracle of Delphi.

* * *

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the chapter! This one is dedicated to my little sister whose birthday was on Saturday (I know it's a little late, but atleast when I posted this it was still September. Ha!). I love ya, sis!

Anyway, did you love the chapter? Hate it? Have any ideas of where it's going? I want to hear from ya! Please review!


	9. The Gospel Truth

A/N: And so begins a two-part update this weekend. I know, it's like the end of the world or something, but actually, I don't plan on updating next month as I will be trying to do Nanowrimo. I can promise you, this story will not die! I may even work on this story next month instead of my random idea for Nanowrimo depending on how _that_ story goes. Anyway, I'll stop rambling so you can read the next chapter.

Disclaimer: If you still think that I think that this story is mine, then I think you are deranged. Either that, or you haven't been paying attention to the eight previous disclaimers.

Chapter 9: The Gospel Truth

I stepped out of the shadows and walked down the alley, rearranging my backpack as I moved. This was familiar –I'd done this what felt like hundreds of times. I merged with the mass of humanity and they didn't notice me. That was alright, though. I was back on my own again, not confined to my new house or a tiny town.

I breathed in the fumes of the traffic, smelling the faint scent that reminded me of Hades. The place, not my dad (that would be weird). I smiled, freedom was good.

The pigeons gathered around a street corner, cooing idiotically, as the crowd waited for the light to change. The traffic zoomed by, some taxis darting and swerving, jockeying for the best position. Random pedestrians darted through the cars, ignoring the sign that clearly said "Do Not Walk."

Watching them, fearing that they were trying to get to Hades the painful way, but the taxis just honked and the walkers just dodged and no one went to Hades today.

I heaved a sigh as the light changed and everyone else started walking, I've been in cities enough, you'd think I'd get used to people darting into quickly moving traffic, but knowing where a lot of them will end up eventually makes it hard to watch.

Not that I'd ever really been to this city before –Chicago, the only city in the Midwest that the rest of the world notices. I think the only reason I hadn't been here recently was I _had_ been here once, a long time ago, with mom and Bianca.

Yeah, I sort of steered clear on force of habit.

Anyway, it was a lot different from what I remembered. The buildings were a lot taller (duh) and the city just seemed louder, probably from all the cars (double duh) and I officially had no idea where I was going (do I even need to say it anymore?).

I probably could have found my way if I knew where on earth Rachel was, but all I knew was that she was at some art school in Chicago. I'm sure she said the name at one point, but I definitely don't remember it. What? I wasn't expecting that I would need to go talk to the oracle.

Suddenly, like a bolt from above, I saw it. A Starbucks. I dipped out of the flow of traffic and ducked into the shop, moving to stand in line once I entered; I knew exactly what I wanted. A few minutes later, I emerged from the Starbucks joyfully sipping my Double Chocolate Chip Frappuccino. This stuff is like nectar from the gods. And trust me, I've had nectar. I walked along idly with the crowd, hoping I would get some divine sign of where…Rachel…was.

Well, that works.

I stopped next to a bus stop, examining the giant poster that covered one wall of the 3-sided enclosure.

"School of the Art Institute of Chicago hosting student's art exhibition," declared the sign in bold letters. A couple pictures in the background gave examples of what could be seen at the exhibition, I assume. One of them was none other than Percy soaring on Blackjack by the Empire State Building and I knew that had to be Rachel.

I glanced down at my drink before taking another sip. Not only it was delicious, it provides signs from above! Now I just had to figure where this School of Chicago Art or whatever was supposed to be. That couldn't be too hard, right?

I know, I know, whenever I say that I usually have to eat my words but this time it actually wasn't that hard.

I wandered around a little bit, looking for artsy looking people, probably someone wearing a beret and maybe a scarf. I came upon a park with a giant silver bean as the focal point. I stared at it, confused, for a second (a bean? Really?), before taking my eyes off the shiny surface to register what was around me.

This seemed to be a hub for weird sculptures. Over to my right, two waterfall things had women's faces that squirted water. I knew I was getting warm.

I slurped my drink as I crossed the road to enter the park, already hitting the bottom of my drink. Slightly disappointed, I glanced sadly at my empty cup before pitching it into a trashcan.

A park security guard wheeled by on a Segway. Resisting the urge to tackle him and steal his Segway, I instead called out. "Officer, uh, hey. I'm sort of lost."

The guy eyed me suspiciously and I tried to offer an innocent smile.

"Where are you trying to go?" he finally asked.

"I'm trying to find the Chicago Art School…place," I said, stuttering over the name. Short term memory skills are something I need to work on.

The officer's eyes crinkled at the corners and he nodded. Clearly this explained everything. "The School of the Art Institute of Chicago? You're almost there. Just cross the street and head that way. You'll see a building with a big sign on it," he directed, pointing to my right down the road, indicating the way I should go.

"Thanks," I said, offering a smile before trotting away.

Crossing the street and heading south toward the Art Chicago School. See, easy as pie.

I had to slow down in order to give time for the words to stop dancing around the signs. I walked a couple of blocks and turned a corner, following at helpful sign that did the mambo before pointing me in the right direction. I went about a block, crossing underneath the "L" or elevated train (it's just like a subway, only not, you know, _sub_) and then—there it was. The School of the Institute of Art in Chicago. It looked like a pretty ordinary building, not flashy or out-of-the-ordinary compared to any of the nearby buildings, but the stenciled letters on the second story window told me I was at the right spot.

Feeling slightly nervous, I resettled my backpack again before taking a step forward. This wasn't as dramatic as going up to the attic at Camp Half-Blood or Rachel's sweet "cave" as Apollo called it, but it was definitely as nerve-wracking. I walked into the main building and stopped once I walked through the doors, only just realizing that I had no idea where I was going at this point.

I took another hesitant step forward and then stopped again. _C'mon signs from above, don't stop now!_

"Going in or out?" asked a voice behind me.

I jumped, scooting to the side; I hadn't realized that I had just stopped in the doorway. "Oh, sorry," I said, turning to look at who spoke, embarrassed.

"It's alright," said the person, an Asian girl, a student at the college probably, wearing a beret and scarf (See?). She gave a light chuckle before taking a sip from her coffee mug. "You look a bit lost," she noted after her sip.

"Yeah, a little bit," I admitting, chuckling myself.

"Well, where do you need to go?" she asked.

"I'm not actually sure. I'm looking for the student art exhibition."

"The exhibition for Painting 102?"

"Yes?"

"It's over in the Sullivan Galleries. You go outside and down the street and then make a right on State Street and it's right there, but I didn't think it was open to the public yet."

"Oh, my friend's one of the presenters," I said, making up a lie on the spot. "She wanted me to come look at it real quick. So, just over that way?" I asked trying to act natural, pointing back out the door and to the right. What, it's weird for a guy to ask directions, and I'd already done it twice today!

"Yep," she said, nodding, though looking a little suspicious as if she was thinking "what's this non-artsy looking person going to a gallery for" but then she seemed to shake it off. Chances are, I'm not the weirdest person she's ever seen.

"Thank a lot," I said, finally turning to follow her directions.

"You're welcome," she called back politely before turning her own way.

I walked to the gallery, hoping that Rachel would actually be there. Well, I'd been lucky so far.

* * *

"No, you don't understand! I wasn't trying to spy on the paintings, I just wanted to find my friend," I protested as I was dragged forcefully from the gallery by a thin, slightly balding man. His hair may have been blond once, but now it was way greyer than anything else and had the texture of wet straw. His stubble didn't win him any points in the beauty department either. At least he wasn't wearing a fashion scarf.

Okay, so maybe shadow traveling into the gallery wasn't my best idea, though it seemed to be when I thought of it. I tried to do the shadow thing like I did when I fought the Brandon-hyena to get into the gallery, but apparently I didn't do it as well as I thought I did. I was able to get into the gallery alright, but I let my guard down for just a second, you know, feeling cocky, and, bam!, the guy was right there.

"No visitors before the exhibit opens! And that's final," insisted the man sternly, shoving me out the door and locking it with a firm motion.

"But—," I tried to yell through the glass door between me and Art Man, but he just glared at me. _Great, now what was I supposed to do?_

"Nico?" asked a voice. I turned and saw a very familiar red-head. Her hair was just as frizzy as ever. A paintbrush was tucked behind her ear and she wore a pair of wild, sparkly earrings. Her shirt was a bit rumpled, but nice and her jeans were, of course, covered in paint smears over a pair of beat-up chucks so old I had no idea what color they used to be.

"Hey, Rachel," I said, feeling a little guilty for some reason. I hadn't done anything wrong. Technically. Yet.

"What are you doing here?' she asked and then shook her head, grimacing slightly. "Wait, never mind. C'mon, not here."

Rachel walked to the door of the gallery where the man still stood, but now he looked more confused than when I last looked at him. Rachel pulled out her own key and unlocked the door, pulling it open, out of Art Man's grip, and beckoning me to go in.

"Now, Rachel, you know the rules; no visitors before the exhibit opens," said the man, but most of the sternness was gone from his voice. Rachel must have been a favorite or something, Or maybe he just liked artsy looking people.

"Please, Dr. Hart," said Rachel, laying it on thick. "This is my really good friend, Nico. I wanted him this now because he'll only be in town today."

Art Man didn't look convinced.

"Please, Dr. Hart," she said, pouting slightly, sounding nothing like the sassy Rachel I knew. It almost made me want to gag. "It's really important to me."

I nodded; despite feeling I was the last one to understand what was going on, trying to act like I'd heard this before. The professor heaved a sigh, looking from me to Rachel and back. "Alright, but just this once, Rachel, and only for an hour."

"Thank you so much, professor!" she said, giving a wide smile before leading me back into the gallery. I followed her without looking back.

A lot of the rooms in the gallery were dark after we left the main room we originally entered, but the lights flickered on as we passed through the doorway to each room, probably triggered by motion sensors. Rachel led me through the labyrinth of hallways and rooms revealing pictures upon pictures.

"So," I said trying to break the silence. "Still having visions?" _Yeah, great question, Nico. That's like asking me, hey Nico, still seeing ghosts?_

The thing is, to tell you the truth; I didn't really know Rachel that well. I know she's the same age as Annabeth and Percy, but I just never really got to know her. She always seemed a little weird to me. Maybe the feeling was mutual.

"You could say that," she said, not seeming to pick up on the stupid-ness of the question as we made a left into a rather small-ish room. The lights flickered on.

She stopped walking and I walked a couple steps passed her, not realizing she had stopped. As it was, I had time to examine the pictures on the walls. My jaw dropped as I quickly twisted my body to try and take in all the pictures. It felt like I had walked into a room full of mirrors, because what the pictures showed was none other than the scene I was in right now.

A red-headed figure was looking at dark figure in a long cloak who was facing the opposite direction. From about 5 or 6 different angles. "Yeah," I said weakly. "I guess you could say that." I edged forward to get a closer look at one of the paintings. My eyes deciphered the dancing letters to read the nameplate. "A Strange Meeting: Study in Five Paintings."

"Strange meeting? Thanks," I muttered, before my eyes drifted up to look more closely at the picture. "Aw, come _on_. My nose isn't that big," I complained. "And I don't have fire for eyes."

"I had to change some of the details," said Rachel, walking up to my side and shrugging, "otherwise the mortals would notice. Look, I changed the color of my eyes and the wideness of my face."

"But really? That nose looks more like a beak."

"I didn't know you were so vain, Nico," she said, eyes twinkling mischievously.

"I'm not," I protested. "I just—" I caught the looks in her eyes,

"A painter is allowed artistic license," said Rachel innocently.

"Yeah, all over my face, you have artistic license," I grumped, scowling at the picture. I wasn't really mad, though, but I was a little freaked out. The more pictures Rachel drew of an event, the bigger it was going to be. The Battle of Mt. Olympus four years ago, she drew two pictures. Here, there were five pictures. I swallowed a little nervously and Rachel's smile slid off her face.

"You have something you wish to ask me?" she said, almost like she didn't want to say it. I nodded, opening my mouth to ask the questions and she shook her head. "No, not here," she said, in way of explanation, nodding her head toward a security camera in the upper corner of the room. Yeah, an oracle giving a prophecy would probably _not_ be a good thing to catch on camera.

I was lead out of Rachel's display room and back into the maze. After a couple more twists and turns, we came upon a utility closet. Rachel tried the door, opening it and hustled me inside.

"I thought Apollo said location was half the prophecy," I teased slightly, sitting on the floor as Rachel arranged herself on an upside-down bucket.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "He knows I make do with what I have," she said. "He likes pomp and circumstance too much anyway."

I looked around, half expecting to see the god himself appearing in order to seek retribution for the slight, but all I saw were the normal things you would see in a cleaning closet –more buckets, mops, brooms, and a couple cleaning rags as well as cleaning solutions. Rachel must have special insult-god privileges or something.

She sighed, eyes filled with sadness as she looked at me. "What is your question?"

I paused. By the fact that she looked sad, I knew this wasn't going to be good. She might not know what the actual prophecy was going to be, but she sometimes got premonitions of feelings to come. Regardless of all that, I had to do this. "How do I remove the curse of the Ghost King?"

Rachel's eyes slid closed and she gave an unnatural shudder, as if she was about to throw-up all over me. I scooted back and gave a shudder as well, that would not be a good way to end my day, with oracle vomit all over me. Her eyes then opened to stare at me, but they weren't her eyes. They were slitted like a snake's, but only for the briefest second before they flashed to a glowing green, as if her eyes had changed to two green flashlights. She opened her mouth and green smoke began to pour out, coiling around her before reaching toward me.

I nervously swallowed. My palms were sweaty even though the room had gotten suddenly cold. Rachel gaped for a second, pausing as if waiting for a song to start playing. I held my breath. Finally she spoke, her voice old, tattered, and hoarse.

"_You shall go to the spot where the West once thrived_

_And find the place where many suffered and died._

_Make a bargain with the one who was made:_

_A challenge issued and bets laid._

_For to remove the curse of the Ghost King,_

_You will have to wager your dearest thing."_

Then everything seemed to reverse; Rachel inhaled and the smoke that was slowly reaching toward me quickly pulled away, streaming back into Rachel's mouth. Her eyes flashed between her own and the glowing sockets of the oracle. She continued sucking air until I almost though she would take all the oxygen out of the room but suddenly she blinked, coughed, and she was back to normal.

"What did I just say?' she rasped before descending into a coughing fit.

I gaped at her for a second, stunned by the whole experience and then swallowed. "Uh, something about going west and meeting someone and making a bet." I hadn't forgotten the prophecy (because I know you were thinking it), but I didn't want to repeat it again so soon. For some reason I felt like not many people should hear this prophecy.

Rachel nodded as if she understood everything, coughs still raking her body.

"Maybe we should go find some water?" I suggested and she nodded again as I helped her up.

We left the closet, me supporting Rachel. Fortunately a drinking fountain was nearby. I steered her toward it and she fell on it like, well, a really thirsty person who needed water. (Sorry, my analogies are failing me.)

Her coughs settled down enough for her to get some water down her throat and Rachel drank deeply. A couple seconds of Rachel gulping allowed me to think over the prophecy. Fortunately, it didn't directly say anything about dying, which was an improvement over most prophecies. However, prophecies also didn't always turn out as expected, which wasn't so good for me.

Rachel finally stopped drinking, her coughing fit over. "You okay?" I asked uncertainly.

She smacked her mouth as if she had just tasted something unpleasant, face pinched like she had just eaten something sour. She scowled slightly, not looking at me. "It was dry," she muttered, sounding confused.

"Dry?" I asked. "How could a prophecy be dry?"

She nodded, as if she didn't really hear me. "Yeah, it was old," she concluded, not looking at me still.

"Do you know how old?" I asked, eager for any kind of clue about the prophecy.

"No, I don't," she said, finally looking at me, eyes searching for some kind of explanation for what just happened. "I'm sorry," she finally said, though I didn't know if that was about not knowing how old the prophecy was, or about my whole situation. I hoped it was the first one.

"So," said Rachel, trying to begin conversation again. "Do you know where to go first?"

I looked at her and shook my head; my mind was reeling like an over-excited hamster (analogies return!).

"Well, Chiron's always a good one to talk to," said Rachel, head tilted to the side in thought, "and Annabeth, if you can find her, and she's not too busy with school work."

I nodded in thanks, not entirely sure I would follow Rachel's advice. "Well," I said awkwardly, "thanks for your help. I'll see you at Camp Half-Blood next summer."

Yeah, I basically couldn't have made that anymore awkward, but I managed to by adding a little wave to the whole mixture before turning to walk away.

"Nico," said Rachel stopping me. I resisted the urge to turn around and look at her –that would have been too cliché. Rachel plowed on anyway. "Be careful, alright?"

I was surprised, glancing back to give, what I hoped was, a brave smirk at Rachel, forgetting the cliché-ness of it. "What? Another prophecy?"

Rachel winced and then offered a little sad smile. "No. A warning from a friend."

I swallowed and nodded a curt thanks before stepping into the shadows again.

* * *

A/N: So, did you catch the shout-out? Nico's love of Double Chocolate Chip Frappuccino's comes straight from royalmagician's story "Just Blame the Frappuccino". She's my sister-dear. Read her stories. Go ahead. Read them. I'll wait right here.

Back? Ok, I thought I should say something about "The Lost Hero" as it just came out (and was awesome!). I'm not sure what's going to become of Nico in the new series at this point, but at the moment, I'm working under the assumption that my story is an AU story. It basically will be in world that was set up after TLO, and that TLH, and potentially that whole series, never happened. I might give some shout-outs to the other series, but I won't put in any spoliers and I'll keep my plot pretty much the same. (Although the different personalities of god's adds an interesting twist to the plot...*mutters to self*)

Anyway, love it? Hate it? I don't care, review it!


	10. This is Halloween

A/N: I'm sorry this chapter is so short, but it seemed like a good place to put a break. Read and enjoy and you'll see me again in December!

Disclaimer: Nope, don't even ask.

Chapter 10: This is Halloween

I stepped out of the shadows a few blocks from where I entered them. I needed to think.

Perfect, just what I'd prayed for—something else to make my life complicated. Why couldn't prophecies ever be straightforward, like a to-do list or something. And what was the prophecy supposed to mean, anyway? The "one who was made"—what was that? And what could possibly be my dearest thing? I didn't have much of value, especially to other people. The things I valued tended to be mementos from my travel. Like the Hades figurine. Not something that other people would see as worth wagering over.

I heaved a frustrated sigh and kept walking, my feet leading me through the streets of Chicago. I wasn't too worried about where I was going, pretty much anything mortal I met I would be able to take down. Monster, ditto. And, if I couldn't, I could always shadow travel away.

Well, at least I had a direction; West, for all the good that did me. I still had no idea what the rest of the prophecy meant. Rachel was right, Chiron or Annabeth would be good to talk to, but I had no idea where Annabeth was. I didn't want to talk to Chiron either. He might make me stick to tradition and make me take two others with.

Oh gods, the companions. The thought almost made me trip over a crack in the sidewalk. I don't think I can take companions. Not on a quest like this. Considering everyone who tried to do this particular quest failed... Yeah, not the best selling point.

I don't know. Maybe it's my loner spirit straight from dear old dad, but I wanted to do this by myself. I mean, I kinda felt like I _had_ to do this by myself. This was the curse of the Ghost King; it felt like I had to do dealt with alone.

Suddenly a scream broke into my thoughts. I blinked, taking in where I was for the first time in awhile. The sound was either one of two things: someone just realized they were a child of Ares (Haha…I'm going to get hurt for that), or they were being attacked by a monster (which, come to think of it, is very similar to…I'll stop talking now before I get barbecued).

I rushed forward, eyes scanning the crowd who mostly acted like they hadn't heard anything—typical city people. Turning a corner, I spotted a little African American girl, big brown eyes wide in terror, almost entranced as she cowered against a storefront.

What scared her seemed to just be some lanky teenage creep in a gaudy black cape and a phantom of the opera half-mask. People powered by, eyes seeming to skip from one storefront to the next. Really people? Really?

I supposed I should have noticed something was weird when I saw that (people aren't that heartless), but I was angry, fists clenched.

"Hey!" I said, walking forward. "Leave her alone!"

The creep jumped, breaking eye contact with the little girl. She shook her head, braids bouncing, as if she was waking up from day-dreaming in class.

The creep's mask slid slightly, enough that I could see the full smirk on his face. The girl whimpered and ran to me, running behind my back. I may have been a stranger, but fear of teenagers in masks over rode any "Stranger Danger!" she had ever been taught.

"You're really messed up," I noted, stating the obvious as I glared at the guy and tried to get the girl to move. We had to get ourselves out of there. Little alarm bells were starting to ring, probably a little bit delayed. I need to get a system upgrade or something. "Come on, let's get out of here," I tried to say kindly, encouraging the girl to move.

"Thanks for ruining my fun," said the teen, a weird light dancing in his eyes.

"Yeah, no problem," I muttered, turning my back to him to try and move the girl away from the problem. That was a mistake. The girl stood frozen, pretty much literally, clutching onto the back of my trench coat, refusing to move.

Suddenly an unnatural cool breeze brushed against my neck as if someone were blowing against it. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as I swung back around and almost punched the guy in the face.

"Stop that! What's your problem?" I yelled, rubbing the back of my neck to try and remove the sensation.

The creep flew backward even though I hadn't touched him, repelled as if we were the opposite ends of a magnet. His face spasmed threw a series of emotions before it went blank behind the mask. That kicked the alarm system into high gear. Yeah, definitely needed to pay attention more.

I scowled at the creep. "Show your true form," I commanded.

The guy scowled back, a weird look on a masked-face, well, a weird look on _any_ masked-face, but especially the one that was uncovered when the mask shattered, revealing unnaturally pale skin with red-rimmed eyes over hallowed cheeks. His limp black hair seemed to billow in a non-existent breeze. Weirdly enough, he still had on the stupid black cape.

_Oh, great._ "Taraxippi?" I guessed. I hadn't actually seen one before, but it was a good guess. A lot of the ghosts seemed to be female, or at least, the ones that always seemed to be the scariest, out searching for the souls of young men. Hey, I don't know why that is. Like they say "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned" which isn't to say all girls will turn into evil, blood-sucking ghosts, it's just…uh, I'll stop talking now. Anyway, Taraxippi were the only kind that I knew that liked to be male.

The ghost gave an elaborate bow, sweeping his cloak in a superfluous flourish. Fantastic, not only is it a creep, it's dramatic too.

"Right in one, milord," he murmured in his hollow voice, somehow failing to be charming.

"Aren't you supposed to be on a racetrack somewhere, frightening horses or whatever it is you do?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow. "And flattery doesn't suit you."

The Taraxippi dropped its gracious smile, leaving a pout behind and shifting its weight. "Its sooo boring there," he said, trying to look pathetic and failing. Miserably. "It's not as fun to scare horses as it is to scare humans. Besides, it's Halloween. The mortals are practically begging me to scare them."

I sighed and messaged my temples. Stupid ghosts. Stupid ghosts getting creative. "Look, I don't care if it's Halloween. Your realm is the racetrack. I can take it up with your boss, if you want. His name is Myrtilos, right?"

The Taraxippi paled even more, if that was possible, falling dramatically to the side.

"Please, no!" he pleaded, trying to look pathetic again, which instead made me feel slightly nauseous. "He'll have me on dung heap duty!" He rose slowly to his feet, raising his hands, begging.

I tried to keep the look of disgust off my face. This ghost was in one word, annoying. "Great. We have a deal. You leave Chicago and I don't report you. You don't leave and I tell your boss _and_ send you to Hades on the express line."

The Taraxippi's face pinched, as if it were thinking very hard. This must have been a new experience for him, because it was awhile before he said anything again. A weird grin splashed briefly over his face, which should have made me nervous, but it was gone so fast, I barely noticed.

"Can't I just have one more smell of that fear?" it asked, stretching slowly around me, finally achieving what all its shifting had edged it toward the whole time, reaching for the girl.

I scrambled for my knife, knocking the Taraxippi aside as I yanked it out. The monster hissed and scratched nails that were suddenly long, raking though the sleeve of my trench coat.

Its eyes widened when it realized what it had done. I steadied my knife, leveling it at the Taraxippi's chest where its heart would be. It stood entranced by me now. _That's right, fear_ me _ghost freak_, a cruel voice muttered in my mind. My knife edged toward the thing before it rested against the Taraxippi's chest, which seemed remarkably solid for a ghost.

_What? No_! I thought, shaking myself out of the blood lust, taking a shuddering breath. "Go to Hades," I rasped and it did.

That drive, whatever it was, was still around. Awesome.

I felt a tugging at my back and turned around quickly, wild thoughts rushing through my mind. _Did it come back? Was there another one?_

I jerked the knife just in time to not stab the little girl in the face.

"Uh…" I tried to say something but the words just wouldn't come, so I tried to give a friendly smile, as I sheathed my knife, but I think it looked more like a grimace.

The girl didn't seem afraid, though, she just stared at me like I was something interesting. "Uh," I tried again eloquently, "that creep shouldn't bother you anymore."

She nodded her head slowly, looking me hard in the face as if she knew me but couldn't remember from where. "He's gone, but they'll be others," she finally said, her chocolate brown eyes flashing a hauntingly familiar shade of green before changing back to her natural color.

I gaped at her like an idiot.

"You should get a shield," she commented idly, eyes flashing green again. "Yes, a shield would be good." She nodded to me wisely, looking more knowledgeable than the average eight year old should look before she turned to walk away.

I shook myself out of my idiotic stupor and grabbed onto her shoulder. "Do you see things? Things that haven't happened yet?" I know that was kind of a stupid question, but how often do you discover someone destined to be an oracle?

She nodded, eyes cautious but hopeful, as if she knew I was the answer to all the weird things that had happened to her. Well, she probably _did_ know.

But she was too young to go now…my mind jumped to my meager collection of drachmas in my bag. "When you get a bit older," I said, slinging my bag off my shoulder and starting to dig around in it, "find a rainbow and ask for Chiron. Pay with this," I said, fingers pulling a drachma out of my bag.

She nodded and gave a genuine smile. "Thank you, Nico," she murmured, taking the coin before skipping away.

Oh yeah, she's definitely going to be an oracle.

* * *

Okay, get in, grab a shield, and get out. Get in, grab a shield, get out. What could possibly go wrong?

I really need to learn to factor my luck into my plan-making. Stepping into the shadows in Chicago, I made the leap cross country to the only place I know of that stockpiles weapons that can kill monsters: Camp Half-Blood.

As I stepped out of the shadows, I immediately knew I was in the wrong place. I wasn't in the shadows behind the Hephaestus armor shed; I was on the Diving Pavilion. With everyone there. Eating dinner. Thank you for nothing, useless shadows.

Chiron was the first to recover as Mr. D just snorted. "An unexpected surprise, as always, Nico."

"You and me both, sir," I muttered, wishing I could just disappear, which I could, but then I still wouldn't have a shield and Oracle Jr. told me, very straight forward—thank the gods—that a shield would be good. The year-rounders who were at dinner gaped at me, so even if I wanted to just try to leave even slightly unnoticed, it was too late for that now.

* * *

A/N: Once again, I'm sorry this chapter is so short, but it was a good place to end it, don't you think? Again, I'll be doing NaNoWriMo (or at least _trying_) so don't expect anything from me until December-ish.

Also, I need your help! See that cliff-hanger I just left? Yeah, there's a good reason for that. I have no idea who all should be year-rounders at this point in time a CHB, and because I'm feeling lazy, er _generous_, I'll give you the chance to put in some of your own characters as year-rounders at CHB. Some rules first: don't be ridiculous (ie: no children/ long lost siblings of main characters. I'm Percy's son/daughter/sister/brother! -he's still in college. Just no!), no children of the Big Three, and no characters that are Nico obessed (I know, somewhere a fangirl is crying). Other than that, fill out the form and I'll try to put at many of your charries in as I can.

As a note (just so I don't get in trouble), the characters you let me use, become, in essense, mine. I get to say what happens to them and how much or how little they appear. I know a lot of the submit your own character stories have been taken down, so I will try to make this as hands-off as possible. After I use them for however long Nico is at CHB, then they may return to your care to love and cherish and what-not. Anyway, with all that serious stuff out of the way, time for the form!

Name:

Gender:

Child of:

History:

Physical Description:

Personality:

Relationship to Nico/others at CHB:

Anything else of interest?:


	11. Something That I Want

A/N: I'm back! And I'm so sorry that I left! I didn't really get anything done in November writing-wise, I wasn't really motivated for my NaNoWriMo, so I feel really bad for leaving this story like that. Well, I hope this chapter makes up for it. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, submitted characters, subscribed, or watched. You all are very much appreciated. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: This is not mine (still)! And the ideas for the characters belong to their respective authors, though I did tweak them a little bit, with permission.

**Chapter 11:** Something That I Want

I awkwardly cleared my throat, trying to not appear like such an idiot, opening my mouth to speak.

"Perhaps after dinner would be more pertinent?" Chiron suggested. I frowned, not entirely sure what pertinent meant, but guessing it was something along the lines of "we'll talk later." I started to speak anyway, but my stomach growled and I closed my mouth. When in an argument with my stomach, my stomach normally wins. I gave Chiron a quick nod and then slumped over to the empty Hades table.

"Hey, Nico!" called a voice and I winced at the cheeriness. I should have been expecting this, the kid was a year-rounder, of course he would be here. I tried to ignore him as I picked up my serving, which had just magically appeared on the table, off the table and took it over to offer some in the fire.

The flames flickered a deep blue before turning back to the merry reddish-orange color as I offered part of my food in. Conversation had since returned to somewhat normally levels as the fire warmed my face.

"It's so cool how the fire does that when you give an offering!" crowed the voice from my elbow, almost making me drop the rest of my food into the fire too. I turned and gave a withering look to the son of Hecate—no use ignoring him now.

"Hello, Andrew," I muttered, trying to breeze past the red-head, green-eyed kid to head back to my table.

"So where have you been since summer? Did you fight any monsters? Have you shadow traveled a lot? Did you run into any other demigods?" His questions peppered me as I sat down at the Hades table and he sat down next to me. I tried to answer in one word responses as best I could, hoping that Andrew would take the hint, but he just wasn't good at sensing the whole subtle moodiness vibe I tended to go for.

I mean, it's not that he's annoying, it's just, well, he is. Have you ever known someone who just tried too hard? I mean, you could be their friend if they just gave you some space or some time to yourself, but they never do? If you're in the same _area, _the same _state_ as that person, they're pretty much guaranteed to be right at your hip.

I didn't want to be too mean to him—I can be friendly. Sometimes. It's just I had a lot on my mind, and most of it was stuff that I didn't want to talk over with a talkative, spunky 14 year old. Even though I hadn't really given much of a substantial response, Andrew had already launched into an in-depth description of life of a year-rounder—starting, from where I could tell, was the day one of post-summer season.

"—then we practiced building fortifications, and I worked on protective spells. It was really cool! I even got it to mostly work the last couple times. At least, they weren't bursting into flames anymore, or attacking the ones defending the base, or throwing peanut butter at the tree nymphs. It was even strong enough to deflect arrows! The spell, not the peanut butter," Andrew said, fingering the locket around his neck which I eyed warily.

The locket housed the magic spell book that Andrew's mother had given him. All he had to do was jerk the locket off the necklace and open it. It would then grow to the size of a dictionary and was filled with spells. I had had many intimate encounters with that book—some of the spells turning me into all matter of unspeakable things. There was one time where I was a squirrel for a week. That was horrible. You think the attention span of a person with ADD is bad? Try having the attention span of a squirrel.

As it was, I shoveled down my food, saying random things like "yeah", "right", and "uh-huh", every so often to keep Andrew going. I found that the longer he's talking about mundane things, the less likely he is to try a spell.

I swallowed a particularly large bite of food and paused, noticing how suddenly quiet it was. "So, why did you come back?" asked Andrew, looking me straight on—green eyes scanning my face.

Oh gods, now he's trying to be _perceptive_. "I need to ask Chiron something," I said, mind quickly settling on a half truth. It was better than an outright lie. It was harder to lie to demigods than mortals.

"Yeah right, why didn't you just IM him?" scoffed Andrew. "Come on, what's the real reason?"

"If I were to insist that all I was doing was just talking to Chiron, would you believe me?" I asked dully.

"Nope," he replied cheerfully.

"Figures," I muttered. I scowled at him slightly, hoping to deter him away from that line of inquiry, but he just beamed at me. Nope, didn't think that would work either.

"It's probably something important, huh?" mused Andrew without waiting for me to say anything. "Something like…uh…oh!" Understanding dawned on his face and I felt my eyes widen, had he really gotten it? "It's about the werewolves, isn't it?"

"What."

"I knew it! Vampires and werewolves have always had a thing! It was only a matter of time before you talked to Chiron about it!"

"Andrew, do you even listen to yourself talk?" I asked. Andrew sort of lived in his own little world. Sometimes is showed more than others.

"Yeah, you're right, that's dumb," acknowledged Andrew, face falling slightly. I glanced at Chiron, hoping he would save me and, thankfully, he was almost done with his meal.

"So, it's a girl, then," Andrew concluded wisely.

"What? !"

Andrew gave me a smirk, wiggling his eyebrows. "Come on, admit it."

"Andrew, do you really think I would talk to a half-_horse_, half-man about romance?" I said, sort of creeped out by the idea. "And he's thousands of years old!"

"I don't know about that," said a voice behind me, modestly and I almost took a trip to Hades. "I've had some fun in my day."

Andrew snorted and I fought the urge to vomit. I turned to the centaur in question standing behind me, tail swishing as if he were slightly annoyed. I blinked at Chiron, feeling like the food I just ate drop out of my stomach. I need to go bleach my mind now, thanks Andrew. I mean, how would that even work? !

"If you'll follow me, Nico, we can talk in the Big House," instructed Chiron, turning to walk in that direction.

I gagged out something along the lines of "yes, sir," and followed the centaur as Andrew cackled behind me. I shot one final death glare to the son of Hecate before staggering after the centaur.

Once we got up to the Big House, Chiron folded himself into his wheelchair, settling himself at a table and patting a chair next to him. I swallowed, trying to scrub the awkward thoughts out of my mind as I sat.

"So, I hear you need some love advice," said Chiron, folding his hands on his lap and looking at me in a fatherly way.

"No no no!" I protested. "That was just Andrew being weird. I mean, I definitely respect your opinion on something like that, but it's not that! I don't even have a girl friend, or a girl that I'm interested in, or anything. Not that I'm not interested in girls, it's just not something that I'm thinking about right now and—uh…" I finally calmed down enough to really look at Chiron whose lips were quivering as he tried to keep a straight face.

"You… knew that…all…along," I finally moaned, slumping back into my chair as Chiron roared with laughter. I let out a weak chuckle as I felt some of the tension leave me. It's okay, I was safe here.

"So," said Chiron after he had finished laughing, wiping a few tears from his eyes, "what is the real reason you've come here?"

"I need a shield," I said, which surprised me. I mean, I kinda had thought about not telling Chiron about the quest and the prophecy, but I never really planned it out in my mind. I just knew that if I told him, he would try to make me take companions and I just couldn't do that.

"Oh really, that's it?" said Chiron, face interested.

"Yeah," I said, "it's a real hassle only having a knife to fight with and no shield for protection."

Chiron looked at me hard and then nodded. "There should be plenty of shields in the Hephaestus shed. One of the children of Hephaestus should be able to help you find a suitable shield."

I moved to stand, getting ready to leave, but Chiron put a hand on my arm. I followed his warm hand up his arm past his shoulder to his head and met his eyes, which felt like they bored holes into my soul. "Is that all you have to talk about, Nico?" he asked seriously.

I gaped for a minute, words threatening to tumble out of my mouth, but then I swallowed them back—trying to keep my face blank. "No," I finally said, eyes drooping away from Chiron's gaze.

He sighed, "Very well." Removing his hand from my shoulder, he wheeled himself out of the room and onto the porch; I followed with the sinking feeling that he knew exactly what I wasn't telling him.

Once I reached the porch, he pointed out across the night enshrouded camp over to the Hephaestus forges and shed. "You should find at least one Hephaestus child there. They should be able to help you find what you need."

"Thank you," I murmured as he gave a stern nod, disappointment on his face. I scampered down the stairs, leaving the disapproving centaur behind. I hated to disappoint people, but I had to do my quest this way. I just knew it. Hopefully, I wouldn't be here much longer and I wouldn't have to worry about Chiron's approval or disapproval of me for awhile.

Dusk was already covering the camp with shadows, it was getting later in the year and darkness came sooner and sooner. I didn't mind, though, it made it easier to find shadows to travel in. As it was, shadows were streaming away from the place I was headed—the forges of the Hephaestus cabin.

The corrugated tin building almost seemed to glow from all the fires crackling inside. There couldn't be anyone in there still, could there? The Hephaestus kids worked all day in the forges, they couldn't _still _be there.

I approached the forges, feeling the air get warmer and warmer as I walked. Whoever was working in there had a hot fire going. Suddenly a shrill keening like a fire alarm jolted me out of my thinking, almost giving me a heart attack. I ducked and swatted, trying to get whatever was making that noise away from my head.

"No, Nick," said a voice from inside the forges. I heard some rustling as if someone was rearranging something and the sound of footsteps as they approached the doorway. "I haven't finished the stink mines yet, I told you it wouldn't be til—." The speaker stopped as soon as he reached the doorway.

A guy about my age, but a little taller, though definitely more muscular than me, stood in the entrance way. His pale skin was sweaty from working in the forges; his dark brown hair was plastered to his forehead. His face was open and honest with a crooked nose and brown eyes that scanned me cautiously. He blinked and gave an irritated look over my left shoulder before snapping his fingers and holding out his palm.

I blinked; did he want payment or something? But just as I thought it, the keening stopped, leaving a ringing in my ears, and the headache that was threatening to take over my forehead lessened.

Now that the ear-shattering sound was gone, I heard the sound of mechanical wings flapping—almost like Daedalus' wing contraptions, but smaller. Out of the shadows around the door fluttered something round and squat. It flopped onto the kid's hand as he began to mutter darkly, poking at it experimentally. I caught something along the lines of "stupid flying pigs" before he descended into language so technical that I'm not sure it was English, or Greek for that matter.

What's more, he seemed to have forgotten about me completely. "Uh, if this is a bad time, I can just come back…," I began, shifting a little uncomfortably.

The Hephaestus kid's eyes flicked back up to look me over—as if this was the first time he saw me before he gave an awkward smile. "Oh, sorry, the alarm pigs have been on the fritz since a prank went bad a few weeks ago. Sorry about that, come on in," said the boy cheerfully, beckoning me inside.

He turned and walked back into the forges and I followed, glancing around curiously—I'd never really had the time to explore the forges. The walls were lined with forge after forge, surrounding the room like the four walls were made of fire. Workbenches were scattered around the room, littered with different tools and partly finished projects. The boy pitched the pig into a box of a few that looked just like it and settled down at a workbench that was situated in the middle of the room.

I stood awkwardly for a moment before the boy gestured again, offering me the seat across the workbench from him, smiling the bashful smile again.

"I'm Iggy," he winced, and the rolled his eyes, "_Ignatius_," he corrected himself, scowling at his full name, "Martelli, by the way, and you're Nico, right?"

I nodded awkwardly, I still wasn't quite used to the quasi-celebrity status I had.

"So, what can I get for you?" asked Iggy, folding his hands, not noticing the awkwardness I felt.

"I need a shield," I said simply, meeting the guy's eyes.

"Well, that shouldn't be too hard, we—"

"Nico!" Iggy was suddenly cute off by a voice yelling my name from outside. Great, it was my walking, talking, very solid shadow. The red-head peeked into the forges and grinned at me as I rolled my eyes.

"Yes! Chiron said you would be in here! I knew you weren't just here to talk to Chiron about your love life!"

I winced, stopping myself from messaging my temples. That would only make me feel old.

"So, what're you doing?" asked Andrew, bouncing in and standing uncomfortably close to me.

"I'm looking for a shield," I muttered, trying to edge away.

"Oh! Can I come?" asked Andrew like a child at Christmas, looking from me to Iggy and back again.

I glanced at Iggy who bore an amused expression. Nope, no help there. I opened my mouth to say "no", but instead found my traitorous mouth replying, "Sure, if you want."

"Sweet!" said Andrew, fist-pumping the air and running out the door he came in. Iggy and I sat stunned for a moment, feeling like we'd just gone through a hurricane and survived, when Andrew popped his head back in.

"You guys coming or not?"

Iggy gave an amused smirk; clearly he was, at least, used to Andrew's antics and heaved himself off the workbench. I reluctantly followed.

We left the forges, following the skipping Andrew down the short path to the weaponry shed. Iggy produced a key ring from his pocket and deftly flipped through the keys, finding the 1 among the 10 or so that he needed. Sliding the key into the lock, it turned smoothly like it was used often or oiled recently, and Iggy pushed the door to the shed open.

There was stuff everywhere. There seemed to be some kind of organization pattern to it: suits of armor ran along the back wall, range and specialty weapons were in the aisles to the right, swords and standard issue shields were on the racks to the left and smaller weapons were in bins overhead. Even so, random things seemed to be stuffed in places they didn't quite belong like the war ax that was hanging from the ceiling by the business end, the nun-chucks that were thrown haphazardly on the floor, or the trident that was _in_ a suit of armor. One thing was for sure, though, the shed was definitely bigger on the inside than the outside. Andrew had already gotten himself lost in the organized chaos, calling out to me the random things he had found.

"Most of the standard shields are on this rack, so you can start trying them on and I'll go look for the specialty shields," instructed Iggy, pointing to my left before he too disappeared into the stacks.

Lifting a standard issue round shield off the rack, I examined it closer than I'd ever really examined a shield before. The fabric that covered the wood of the shield was frayed around the edges from use with something that may have been dried monster drool on the front. I slipped it on my left arm, feeling the weight. It was ok, I guess, the weight seemed to rest a little weirdly on my arm, but that was just like every other shield I had ever tried to use. I suppose I could use this.

"Hey, Iggy, I can just use this one," I called, turning to peer to the far side of the shed where Iggy had vanished to.

He popped his head out above the shelf. He somehow was now wearing a helmet, though the plume on top seemed to be broken, flopping to one side, and scowled at me. "C'mon, Nico, you can't just use a standard issue shield. You're going to be using this shield as you travel, you don't want it to be some boring old thing."

I turned to look at the shield again. "It looks fine to me," I called back. "Really, I'm not that picky—."

"No, I will not have you wandering the country using something like that! I mean, look at the workmanship on it! Someone probably made it while they were sleeping. Now quit complaining and try this one on."

I sighed and settled the shield back on the rack before heading off to where Iggy's head was. "You told me to start looking there in the first place," I muttered under my breath.

"I was hoping to find your size," retorted Iggy suddenly from right next to me, almost making me scream like a little girl. "You didn't happen to check the size on the shield you tried on, did you?"

I swallowed my yelp and shook my head. Iggy shoved the shield he was holding at me, which I scrambled to grab, before he left the specialty weapon stacks to presumably find my proper size. I didn't even know they _came_ in sizes.

The shield in my hand was smaller than the standard issue one. It was thinner, and lighter, though it felt like it was made of metal, not wood. I slipped it on, feeling the weight on my forearm. It felt too light; like it would shatter the first time I tried to use it. I slid it off, nope, not this one.

"—looks like you're a size 14 or so," said Iggy as he came back. Don't worry, I have no idea what he meant by that either. "So, at least that's a place to start." He saw me holding the shield and frowned a little in thought. "Too light, huh?" he concluded. I blinked and nodded, this guy could read minds, I swear.

"Hey, Nico, try this one on!" said Andrew's voice from a couple aisles over accompanied by the sound of scraping. Iggy and I both raised our eyebrows at each other before wandering over to where Andrew was trying to move a monster truck sized shield. You've got to be kidding me.

"Andrew," I spluttered, after a minute's stunned silence about the huge metal monstrosity. "If you can't pick it up, what makes you think I can?"

"Awww, c'mon Nico, please try," begged Andrew, sweaty face from hauling the shield in a strange pout.

"Okay, okay, I'll try it," I said hastily. "Just don't make that face again."

"Yes!" Andrew said, fist-pumping before running off back into the shelf, leaving the monster truck shield standing all by itself. Iggy and I rushed to grab it, managing to hold it vertical with one of us on either side of it.

I glanced at Iggy over the shield, but he just shrugged and let go, leaving me alone to scramble with the shield by myself. Thanks guys. I maneuvered myself around the shield, getting roughly in position to slide my arm through the straps. Slipping my left arm through the loops, I tried to lift the humongous shield. After a few minutes of struggling and pulling a couple muscles in my back, I gave up, letting the shield fall to the ground with a loud clang. That was a huge NO.

Wiping off the sweat that had collected on my forehead, I turned to see Iggy there smirking at me.

"How long were you there?" I panted, swinging my left arm around to get some blood flow back into it.

"Enough time to see you look like you're _really _constipated," replied Iggy, lips quivering.

"After I kill Andrew, you're next," I replied.

Iggy wasn't threatened at all, on the contrary. He shoved another shield in my face before heading back into the stacks. I stared after him forlornly before glancing down to examine the shield.

It was a square shield with some odd designs in the front. The weight didn't feel too bad, so after a few more minutes of letting my arm rest, I tried it on. Unfortunately, like the standard issue shield, this one sat uncomfortably on my arm too, the straps rubbing at my wrist and elbow even before I tightened them. Hearing a noise, I looked up to see Iggy and Andrew coming back, each carrying another shield for me to try on. This was going to be a long night.

I think I went through hundreds of shields, practically going through all the shields in the supply shed. I tried on small shields, large shields, square shields, round shields, shields with spikes on them, elaborately decorated shields, shields with lights on them, shields half eaten by monsters, and one nasty shield that had a curse on it which Andrew, Iggy, and I had to fight off. At the end of our search, shields were strewn everywhere and I had yet to find one of my own.

"I could have just used the standard issue one, but _no,_" I drew out the word, "I had to have a _nice_ one," I moaned from my sprawled out position on the floor of the shed. Andrew had gone catatonic a little bit ago, staring at all the shields around him with a bleak expression.

Iggy, however, was more determined than ever, the helmet that he wore was knocked askew, the broken plume bouncing wildly with each step. "I know we have the perfect shield. It's here. I know it," he muttered to himself over and over again, restlessly wandering around the shed, searching for any shield that may have been missed. The hair that peeked out from helmet was tousled from the number of times he had run his fingers through it in frustration.

My left arm was tired from trying on so many shields—that would need to be something I focused on when I got my shield, left arm strength. If I got my shield.

"It's really okay," I said after a brief pause as Iggy continued frantically pacing around the shed. Poor kid looked like he was about to have an identity crisis. "I can probably find a shield somewhere else, or get someone to make one for me…"

A spark seemed to flash from Iggy's eyes as he zoomed over to me. He grabbed my shoulders and shook me, his body shaking with excitement as well. "Nico! You're a genius! Why didn't I think of that before?" He spun me around a couple of times then released me and banged out of the shed, flinging the helmet off as he ran. "Come on, Nico! I need measurements!"

I stood dizzy for a second as Andrew looked mutely up to peer at me curiously. I stared back. This might be the first time I was speechless with Andrew but not _because_ of Andrew.

We both shrugged and left the Hephaestus supply shed, hearing it lock behind us, and tottered sleepily after Iggy back to the forges.

Despite being gone for so long, the fires still burned warmly as Iggy rummaged around for a measuring tape in his supplies. I sat groggily at the workbench, Andrew across from me, his head supported by his right hand. Finally, Iggy produced a measuring tape with a flourish before rushing back over to begin measuring my left arm, jotting down the lengths on a scrap of paper.

"You know, you don't really have to do this," I said, already realizing it was a lost cause.

"Are you kidding? This is going to be so sweet!" said Iggy, voice feverish. "Oh, dude, I've got so many ideas for this, you are not going to believe it when you see it!"

I looked at him, arching an eyebrow. "Were you planning to do this all along?" I asked somewhat suspiciously.

Iggy gave me a reproachful look before whipping off a last measurement. "Do you think I have enough patience to pretend all that?"

"Yeah, no, you're right," I acknowledged. I barely had the patience to _try on_ all those shields, Iggy definitely wasn't pretending. For one thing, his ADD would have exploded. "But you really don't have to do this," I insisted.

"Nico, I want to," replied Iggy. He settled down on the workbench next to me now that his measurements were done, pulling a pad of paper near him and beginning to scribble away at designs. "Ever since the Second Titan War, there hasn't really been a need for weapons or armor. I mean, it's nice to build fun stuff like flying pigs and mechanical gadgets and all, but _this_ is the good stuff," he said, gesturing at the paper which already had a rough sketch of a shield on it. "This feels like what I'm supposed to help forge." He looked at me and gave a small smile.

_What you're supposed to do?_ My mind repeated. _Was that like me with this Ghost King thing? Is it a _good_ thing that I'm trying to fight it?_ I sighed, rubbing my eyes to try and stay awake, fighting away those weird thoughts.

"Why don't you head to bed," said Iggy, noticing how tired I was. "I'll work on this tonight and try to get it to you in the morning."

"Wait, you're going to stay up all night?" I protested.

"You think I could sleep now?" he retorted, that spark I'd seen in his eyes earlier dancing.

I held his gaze for a moment and then sighed. I can be stubborn, but sleep was beginning to punch me in the face. Bedtime, please.

I stood up to leave and glanced at Andrew. "You coming?" I asked the kid who had since perked up slightly.

"No, I've got a question for Iggy," he replied, thoughtfully fingering his necklace. That was my cue to leave, before Andrew got any ideas.

"Alright, see ya, Andrew, Iggy, and thanks!" I called after them, beating a hasty retreat.

Night had most certainly fallen and the skies were clear above me. The fall night was brisk and cold, but not enough to see my breath. I wandered over to the circle of cabins, picking out the Hades cabin as much as from habit as from the fact it was surrounded by blue fire.

I shouldered the door open, enjoying how the candles lit inside the cabin as I came in, and shut the door behind me. The room was empty, as it always was. There were enough beds set up for 5 or so other campers, but that was more wishful thinking on my part. The only bed that has actually been used was the one on the far side of the cabin underneath the only window. Walking over to my bed, the walls twinkled with rare and semi-precious stones like hundreds of different colored stars.

I snorted and kicked off my shoes, slinging my book bag on my bed. I can be poetic when I'm tired. I sighed as I sat on my bed, barely having time to take off my trench coat before I fell promptly asleep.

* * *

A/N: Thank you for reading this chapter of Ghost King! Special thanks to Yarra and RoyalMagician whose characters appeared in this chapter. I loved all the characters that were submitted and I actually extended the time that Nico is spending at CHB so that each of your characters could get some face time. One quick request is that I got a lot of characters whose name begins with the letter "A", it was a really weird coincidence and I'm not too sure why it happened. Anyway, if you submitted character with the first name that began with the letter "A" and wouldn't mind changing their first name, I would really appreciate it. Feel free to just pm me the name change or leave it as a review to this chapter. If you don't, I'll just come up with a nickname for that character and use that (mwahahaha!).

Read and review, please!


	12. Round the Mulberry Bush

A/N: Thank you so much for everyone who has read, reviewed, favorited, and subscribed! You help keep me motivated!

Chapter 12: 'Round the Mulberry Bush

The next morning I was rudely awaken by a pack of Party Ponies trying to break into my cabin. I flailed around a bit in the sheets, trying to find my knife but then stopped and glared at the door. It was entirely too early to be moving this much.

The pounding on the door continued as I just glared resentfully at it. Okay, so it wasn't Party Ponies, but try being jolted out of dead-to-the-world sleep like I was and then we'll talk.

Without even waiting for me to get up to open the door, which I wasn't planning on doing anyway, it burst open and three figures walked in. First Andrew waltzed in, declaring something along the lines of, "Oh, Nico doesn't mind. I do this all the time," to the people behind him. His red hair was oddly smushed to the side like he had slept on it weird, but his eyes were sparkling and he looked entirely too happy to be up. Morning people—almost as irritating as Justin Bieber fans, but worse because Justin Bieber fans are only irritating when he's around (trust me, I know. Personal experience which I don't want to repeat or even remember any time soon); morning people are annoying EVERY MORNING.

"Do you know what time it is?" I asked the trio who had come into my room, trying to scowl and look dangerous, but more likely managing to sound like I was whining and pulling off a fantastic pout.

"It's 9:30," said the boy behind Andrew and I blinked, his name bubbling to the surface of my mind—Iggy. I said this once and I'll say it again: I struggle in the morning (and if I didn't say that before, then deal with it). "If you sleep any later, you'll miss breakfast."

"You got a pretty nice place here," said the third person. I turned to glare at him, morning grumpiness still in full swing.

It was a guy I sort of recognized. I'm pretty sure he was in the Hermes cabin, but that was more because he had the typical elf-like features that most Hermes kids had and not because I actually knew him. He sort of looked like a young Luke; if Luke hadn't gone all psycho and evil, or been attacked by a dragon. So really, he didn't look much like Luke. He had blond curly hair and golden skin from being outside. He was athletic and thin like he ran, unlike me who just couldn't control my growth spurts and get enough food into myself to actually gain weight. At least, that's what Annabeth told me once—who knows what she was talking about.

"Um, thanks," I muttered, shifting a little in my bed before swinging my legs around and sitting up. It was a little weird to lie down in bed with three people staring at you.

Iggy received a jab from both sides as Andrew and the Hermes guy both elbowed him in the ribs. "Ow! Oh…right," said Iggy, tired eyes flicking brighter as he looked at me.

I turned to examine the guy. He looked exhausted, hair that was slightly ruffled last night stuck straight up in the air, huge bags rested underneath his eyes and he moved with the creaky movements of someone who got little to no sleep. Despite how tired he looked, his hands twitched. Someone had broken into the Hermes stash of _Monster_ energy drinks. "Nico, I wasn't able to finish your shield last night," he began.

I opened my mouth to protest, but he plowed on. "I know I said it would only take one night, but some of the features I visualized for it just wouldn't crystallize, but Nick," he gestured to the Hermes kid next to him, "came up with some really good ideas and Andrew wanted to help too."

"Andrew?" I tried to speak again, a little more concerned now. Remember? Squirrels? !

"So the shield should be done by Friday," finished Iggy quickly, twitching more than ever.

All three looked incredibly pleased with what they had accomplished, but I just eyed them warily—not entirely sure I could trust a Hermes kid, a Hephaestus kid who was putting Hyperactivity in ADHD, and Andrew who was just…Andrew.

"So, what exactly are you doing for the shield?" I asked Andrew carefully, worried about what I had gotten myself into.

"Well it's gonna—," began Andrew excitedly before Iggy clapped his hand over the son of Hecate's mouth.

"It's a surprise," said Iggy quickly, nudging Andrew who nodded.

"Right…," I said slowly. "Okay, tell me this, how do you know whatever Andrew does to it won't explode or turn me into something?"

"Well, the spells—," began Andrew again before Nick, this time, clapped his hand over the kid's mouth.

"Because _I'm_ going to test it," said Nick confidently, as if this would get rid of all the fears I had.

Uh, not quite. "Test it?" I asked faintly. _Di immortales_, what were they _making?_ I swallowed nervously before I tried to speak again. "Look, I really appreciate what you're doing, but couldn't you just make me a regular shield?"

"You don't need to worry, Nico!" said Andrew cheerily, ducking underneath Iggy's and Nick's grab for him. The two older campers collided as Andrew continued, unfazed. "This is going to be the coolest shield ever!"

"That's kinda what I'm afraid of," I said as Iggy and Andrew regained their balance, beaming at me.

_There really isn't anything to worry about_, part of me tried reasoning. _How many people get their own custom shield...that could blow their arm off. I need to go to Pessimists' Anonymous or something._ I shook my head and then looked at the three guys. They were all looking at me, worried expressions on their faces, looking like 3 sad puppies.

I wanted to punch myself. I needed to stop letting my paranoia effect others. _Just appreciate the gift, Nico,_ I told myself firmly.

My face slowly widened to a smile that I prayed looked genuine. "Thanks guys," I finally said. "I really don't know what to say. Thanks for working so hard to make a shield for me. I really need one."

The three faces in my doorway brightened in response. I guess what I said and how I acted must have seemed genuine because they all perked up instantly. And, I guess, even though I like to think I'm too independent to need anyone else's help, I really was grateful.

"Don't mention it," said Iggy, a little bashful, though pleased.

"You're going to love it!" crowed Andrew.

"We should probably get back," concluded Nick, voice re-energized, looking over his other two partners in crime before glancing to me. "See ya 'round, Nico!"

We traded a round of good-byes as Iggy, Andrew, and Nick left my cabin closing the door behind them and returning the room to the usual gloom of the inside.

I sighed, no use sleeping now, especially not with my stomach reminding me that I should be eating breakfast. I heaved myself out of bed before I pulled my backpack toward me and began to root around for some clean-ish clothes. I finally found a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that didn't quite smell like musty backpack and pulled them on, throwing the clothes that I had worn yesterday, and to bed, on top of my mangled sheets. I would pick those up later. Maybe.

After I pulled on my trench coat and strapped on my knife, I opened the door again and stepped out. It was a warm day for early November, enough so that my fairly thin trench coat was enough to keep me warm. I looked around the camp to see that everything was fairly subdued.

The off-season camp has a different feel than the camp during the summer. In the summer, everyone has a strict schedule to follow and people normally do. The training is varied and general to try and make the best use of the time to prepare the half bloods that were only there for the summer. The off-season is completely different. It's more relaxed in some ways. The schedule is looser and campers are allowed to choose what they want to do, focusing on personal skills and interests. Food was still provided at certain times, but the rest of the day was pretty much left to the campers to do what they wanted.

At the moment, smoke poured out of the Hephaestus forges; presumably, Iggy was back to work. I spotted some flying horses in the sky doing a very intricate flight patterns. I heard a couple shouts and turned to see a couple demigods dueling with specialty weapons, ones that they didn't normally work with during the summer. I inhaled the fresh November air and set out for the Dining Pavilion, hoping there would be some food left for me.

A noise suddenly made me stop and look around—the solid noise of hoofs on grass and dirt was an unmistakable sound. My stomach gave an awkward little jump, unable to figure out if it was excited or nervous, as I turned to face the one making the sound.

Chiron gave me a small smile, his eyes a confused muddle of brown. I gaped at him, trying to think of something to say.

"Looking for breakfast?" he asked, a slight twinkle in his eyes.

"Yeah," I nodded, feeling properly bashful.

"I'm afraid the harpies have already cleared that meal," said Chiron a little wistfully before he began rummaging around in his saddle bag that he was using as, well, a bag. He pulled out something in a cloth and handed it to me.

I pulled aside the fabric to reveal some type of bread and an apple. It wasn't much of a meal, but I had had smaller ones before.

"Thanks, sir," I said before taking a bite out of the bread. It was rich and hearty with nuts and berries in the dough—surprisingly filling for bread. Quickly wolfing that down, I took a bite out of the apple which crunched pleasingly and juicily. It too was very fresh, odd for being so late in the season, but delicious.

Taking the offered canteen from Chiron, I gratefully chugged, draining the water from it in seconds. Chiron chuckled and I gave an awkward smile back, just realizing how much of a pig I just looked like. Passing back the canteen, I muttered another thank you.

Amusement danced in Chiron's eyes as he took it. "You finished that meal quickly," he noted.

"Uh…growing boy," I said, trying to overcome my discomfort as I looked up curiously at the centaur.

"Walk with me," he said and I sighed, feeling my recently eaten meal settle in my stomach with a dull thud. Great.

As it was, I followed the centaur, pacing quietly beside the teacher. What else could I do? Chiron always knew when stuff was up; like the time when Percy and Annabeth went night swimming together, or the time the Ares cabin paint-balled the Athena cabin, or even that time last summer when the Hermes and Hecate kids pranked everyone around the campfire. This time was no different. It was really wishful thinking that I thought I could keep my quest from him.

"Ignatius, Nicholas, and Andrew seem to be busy at something," noted Chiron, voice light. I blinked at the use of their full names and then nodded.

"Like I said last night, I need a shield," I replied carefully.

"You've gone all these years without any other weapon other than your knife," Chiron observed, voice still light, but concern filtering in towards the end. "Why the sudden change, Nico?"

"One too many monster encounters, I guess," I replied tersely, feeling the contents of my stomach roll, dreading the confrontation to come. I would not be the one to break, though. No way.

"Tell me about it," said Chiron, turning his gaze to me for the first time and stopping. I gaped at him. We were by the empty Dining Pavilion now, edging along the forest.

_Just tell him about Little Billy or the Baliskos or the freak Brandon, or anything! C'mon Nico, say something!_ My mind rattled, but the words seemed to get clogged somewhere at the back of my throat.

Chiron nodded as if my silence answered everything. "You were told to get a shield by someone you trust," he concluded. "Who was it?"

I spluttered for a moment and then scowled. "I'm not sure why you care, sir," I snapped, almost forgetting to add the "sir". Call me old-fashioned, but that's how my mother taught me.

"It matters because you're hiding things from me, Nico, and I'm concerned about your well-being," said Chiron, voice serious and worried, eyes boring holes into me as if he hoped to see the answer suddenly write itself across my forehead.

I was staggered by what Chiron had said, though I tried not to show it. Most of the adult-like people made my life more difficult by falling into either one of two categories: they tried to kill me or they gave me the problems in the first place. I often forgot that there was a third category: those that actually cared about me. I didn't have much contact with this category. Chiron, of course, was in that category, and I was beginning to remember how much trouble this group could be as well.

"How do you know that?" I asked carefully, trying to keep my face blank.

"I have dreams too," he replied simply.

There was a pause for a second before I asked, trying not to sound too curious. "What kind of dreams?"

"Mostly about my pupils, their futures, their _quests_." He emphasized the last word and, unwillingly, I flinched. Suddenly, realizing what I did, I looked up at Chiron, wide-eyed, waiting for the next move.

"So you do have a quest," said Chiron quietly. He gave a blustery sigh, sounding something like a horse. If I wasn't so scared, I would have laughed.

Oh? You noticed I said scared. Well, yeah, I was. If there's one rule, it's you don't mess with Chiron and I was doing just that. I could deal with my dad's temper, I could command spirits, I could make wise cracks about psycho vampire ladies, but if there was one thing I didn't want to do was face-down Chiron. And, oh look, I was doing just that. Lucky me.

The thing is Chiron had seen a lot. He had trained hundreds of heroes and he had seen basically all of them die a painful death. He's pretty much existed since the beginning of the world, so he knows every trick in the book and some that haven't even been written yet. I knew that he is way smarter than me, and I'm not stupid. I knew he would take one look at what I was doing and try to convince me otherwise and I just couldn't let him do that.

"And if I do?" I said in turn.

"Then you should let me help you," responded Chiron with gentle firmness.

I jutted my jaw forward stubbornly, mentally digging in my heels. "I don't need help."

Chiron frowned right back at me. "I can _help_ you," he insisted again. "You'll need companions and supplies—"

"I said I don't need help!" I cut off the centaur, pretty much throwing all caution to the wind at that point.

"Now's not the time to be stubborn," said Chiron. "A quest isn't the time to prove yourself; this is a time when you are sent out to fix a problem."

"I'm not doing this because I'm being selfish," I protested, scowling back, getting at what the centaur was hinting at.

"What then?" asked Chiron, trying to keep his voice patient.

"I'm doing this because it's _my_ quest," I insisted. Yeah, I know I sounded childish.

Chiron gave me a look that told me he thought so too.

"Nobody's ever come back from this quest!" I yelled at him, over-riding whatever he was about to say. "I'm not going to risk anyone else's life on this. This is the Ghost King's burden and I'm carrying it by myself!"

A series of emotions flashed over Chiron's face before he grimaced and said, "You know what happened the last time the rule of quest companions wasn't followed?" He paused as I looked coldly at him. _Don't do it, please don't go there_. He sighed and then quietly murmured. "Your sister died."

It was a desperate move and both of us knew it. I gritted my teeth, part of me still wished I had made Bianca stay behind or even tried harder to bring her back. With Chiron rustling through those memories, it just made it even worse. "Don't bring my sister into this," I growled.

"Nico, I'm sorry—," Chiron began, face a mask of pain and I knew he meant it, but that didn't stop me from being furious at him.

"No, _sir, _I'm done," I cut him off shortly, voice dripping with venom, before turning on my heel and walking into the forest, trying to keep my pace steady.

Before I knew it, I was running with all my might, dodging trees and tripping over roots and rocks. My mind was on fire and I wasn't thinking clearly. My eyes didn't seem to be working either as I stumbled, almost running into a tree. Catching myself, I rubbed my hand over my eyes and felt wetness, angry tears dribbling out the corners of my eyes. Well, that could have gone better.

I tried to calm myself down enough to listen, my breathing had gotten heavy after my run and my heart was pounding in my ears. I didn't hear any sounds of pursuit, which was good. I don't know what I would have done at that moment if Chiron tried to talk to me again.

After a few more minutes of listening, I finally allowed myself slump to against the tree I was using for support and slide down to the ground, letting the angry tears creep off my face and onto the ground. Why couldn't Chiron trust me? I know it's stupid to go on a quest by myself. I know breaking the companion rule was part of what got my sister in trouble (a small part), but I also knew that this quest was only meant for a Ghost King—a son of Hades—and if I couldn't do it alone, then I wouldn't do it at all. So, yeah, it was stupid. And I was probably going to die, but then at least, it would be just me. I didn't have to worry about anyone else.

I slammed my fist against the tree and let out a frustrated groan. What was it with adults? They were always so sure _they_ knew the right way.

But then again, how was I so sure my way was the right way?_ Maybe listening to Chiron might not be so bad,_ a small voice chirped up honestly, _it wouldn't be the worse advice you've ever taken._

_And risk someone else's life on an impossible quest?_ I snapped back. _Yeah, that's a great selling point. Besides, who would I ask?_

I rolled my head on my neck, moaning. This was stupid and it was too early in the morning to be talking to myself.

"Excuse me," said a soft voice and I swear I almost levitated.

I jolted awkwardly to my feet, trying to wipe my face and draw my knife with mixed results. I ended up smacking myself in the face as I scrambled for my weapon before I froze and actually looked at the person who was talking to me.

It was a girl about my age with dark hair like mine, though her skin was paler. Her hair was long and wavy and pulled back into a pink scrunchy like I'd seen in pictures of people from the 90's. Two pieces of hair framed her thin oval face as she looked at me in the eye; she was tall for a girl. Her azure eyes held a sort of detached, dreamy quality of someone who was off in la-la land.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," she murmured, not sounding entirely apologetic, "but since you're here, I was wondering if you wanted to help me weed."

I gaped at her as she scored a zero on the compassion scale. "Weed?" I finally stuttered.

She nodded as if this were obvious. "Disturbance helps increase the biodiversity of a natural environment. The dryads were complaining that it was a little dull here, so I offered to help, just so long as I don't pull any of them up."

"And you need me to—?" I asked, voice trailing off, feeling like I was somehow missing half of the conversation.

"Well, you were sitting on the patch I was about to weed," said the girl reasonably. "So, I thought if you were going to sit there, you might as well help me."

Plain old stubbornness, not to mention remaining anger from my argument with Chiron, almost made me say no. Why should I help this girl? I didn't even really recognize her from the summers, though that didn't mean much. She probably was in the woods all day then too. _Weeding_ them.

I rolled my eyes. Sure. Whatever. Do what the crazy girl wants.

I gave a curt nod to her and she gave me a faint smile back, the first sign of emotion she had shown me as she directed me to the partially smushed plants I had just been sitting on, showing me what I needed to pull and what I should leave alone.

When I gave another nod that I understood what to pull, she wandered away to another tree and began to do the same thing. The clearing that we were in was a small one, only about six feet or so wide with a ring of seven trees surrounding it. Each tree had a thick trunk, which made the clearing more like a room than would be expected from only seven trees and the fairly sparse undergrowth. The forest was quiet as I tugged at the weeds, feeling the stupidity of the task increase with every passing second. I was about to tell the girl that I had something more important to do than weeding the forest, like sulk somewhere, when she spoke, "So, Ghost Freak, why are you out here all alone?"

"Ghost Freak?" I spluttered. "My name's Nico."

"And I'm Aurora Bloom," she replied evenly. "You still didn't answer my question."

I scowled at the back of her head as she moved on to another tree. "I don't see how that's any of your business," I muttered back, tugging at a particularly stubborn weed, before it suddenly loosened and I tumbled backward to the ground.

I moaned as she said, "Because I might be able to help." She turned to look at me, her once vacant azure eyes now somehow a sharper blue.

"No thanks, I'm fine," I replied, getting back to my feet and dusting off the back of my trench coat as best as I could.

Aurora hummed a tuneless song for a second as I crossed the mini-clearing to head to the beach, hoping to find a place to sulk there. Alone.

"Sometimes in gardening, you have to prune a flower in order for it to grow better," she finally noted, as if commenting on the weather. "You cut off some of the smaller buds allowing for the bigger ones to bloom."

I paused and looked back around at her. "Thank you, Confucius, remind me to write that on a fortune cookie." I then stomped a couple more steps away before I whirled around again, heaving a frustrated sigh. "What does that even mean?" I asked, completely confused.

"That sometimes we have to go through hard times to get stronger," she said, though it was more of a question.

"You don't even know what your own anecdote means?" I accused, more exasperated than anything.

"I just always wanted to say that," said Aurora, a slightly mischievous smile flicking across her face before it disappeared. "Did it help?"

"I don't think it really applies to what I'm going through," I said, scratching my head as I stretched my mind to try and fit her saying to my life: Nico's life—an analogy. Yeah…_NO!_

"Oh. I'm sorry," she said, sounding again like she wasn't very sorry, "but at least you did help me with the weeding, so thank you."

She paused, azure eyes trained on me before I swallowed and muttered, "You're welcome."

"See you later, Ghost Freak," she called as I walked away.

I bit back a reply and merely forced a smile on my face and waved to her.

What a weird girl. I didn't know many children of Demeter—though I couldn't really be sure that's who her mom was, but who else was so obsessed with plants?—but if all Demeter's kids were like that, I planned to stay as far away from the Demeter cabin as possible.

I finally made my way to the beach and, strangely enough, I felt better when I got there. It might have been thanks to Aurora's weird advice, or at least it helped me realize how weird my life was, someone's life out there was probably weirder. That's the benefit of being a demigod—helps keep you in perspective. Or my spirits might have been lifted, so to speak, because I got to quickly take down a giant crab that was wandering around the forest. That's always fun.

I settled down on the sand, pulling off my trench coat and laying it down on the beach like a quasi-beach towel. I figured it was going to get sandy anyway, might as well abuse it (more). Laying down on it, I sighed, enjoying the salt in the air and admiring the scattered clouds scuttling across the sky, letting my eyes slid closed. I always liked the beach. Maybe because it kinda symbolized the place where the Big Three's realms met—land, sea and sky. I also just liked the sound of the waves. It has the effect of lulling me to sleep.

My mind kept pestering me with the problem of what to do about Chiron, but I kept shoving the thought away, wanting to enjoy the peaceful surroundings. As is the problem when you're trying to ignore something, though, it manages to come bounding back. I moaned and gave a frustrated kick, hoping the motion would somehow drive the thoughts out of my head. It didn't.

I opened my eyes to look back up at the clouds and saw Aurora's face looking down at me.

"Ah!" I yelled startled, jolting upward and swinging around to look at her. "How did you get here? How did I not hear you?"

"You seemed to be thinking pretty deeply," she replied, not really answering my questions.

I scowled at her and lay back down on the ground, folding my arms behind my head. "Come to weed the beach?" I asked sarcastically.

She gave a light but genuine laugh and I eyed her suspiciously. Whatever she had, I hoped it wasn't contagious.

"Sorry about that back there, I can get pretty into my work," she responded. Her arms were wrapped around her legs as she starred out to the ocean, sitting next to me. Resting her chin on her knees, her eyes remained pensive.

Silence reigned for a moment as we both thought our separate thoughts. I quickly grew tired of chasing Chiron around my head, so I decided to _try_ and make conversation. "Why did you follow me?" I asked.

"You looked lonely," she replied simply. "People aren't meant to be alone, just like you can't have a garden with only one flower."

I twitched at the analogy slightly. "I'm not a flower."

"And I'm not a stalker," she said directly, voicing the thing I had just been musing. I winced at what she had said, feeling kinda guilty.

Silence ruled again as I fidgeted with the sand, burrowing my hands into it before shaking them loose and repeating the process. "I wanted to see if I could help," she finally said.

I held back a snort. _Yeah, that's the last thing I need, help from Miss Flower Power over here._ "I'm not sure you can," I finally said when I had slightly regained control of my sarcasm.

Aurora peered at my face, azure eyes looking deep into mine for long enough that I was starting to feel a little uncomfortable. If she was trying to seduce me, she was failing spectacularly because I was really freaked out. Or maybe, then again, she could have been doing a really good job.

"W-_what_?" I finally stuttered, trying to keep my mind from frolicking in the gutter.

"You're going to be okay," she finally said, voice firm and reassuring. "You've got good roots and a strong trunk. You just need to find where to bloom." I gaped at her for a second, trying to comprehend what she had just told me.

"Take this," she said, dropping something into my lap. It was a small sprig of yellow flowers. They grew in clusters sprouting from a single stem, looking like a chandelier, but, you know, a flower. The flowers themselves were not particularly pretty, but I don't know much about flowers, so I'm not one to judge. "It's called an Everlasting Flower," said Aurora, looking at the flower in my hand fondly as I twirled it between my thumb and forefinger. "It used to be offered to the gods at their temples because even when it was dried, it didn't lose its color."

I was silent; eyes flicking from her gift to her face and back again. "Thank you," I finally said and she nodded, her eyes slipping back to the dreamy quality they had held back in the forest before she heaved herself off the sand and walked away. I carefully examined the flower again, not entirely sure why the gods would like _this _flower, and then shook my head. Well, that was weird.

Heaving a sigh, I allowed myself to relax again, eyes sliding back closed and I found myself asleep faster than normal.

In my dream, a woman like an angel stood at a crossroads. She was pretty with pale skin and rich brown hair. Her lean figure was emphasized by the massive wings that sprouted from her back, fluttering gently to keep herself aloft. However, that's where her prettiness stopped. Her face was cold and cruel and a bloody sword hung from her hip. She held a scale in her right hand as she stared at me coldly, blocking the path to the left and pointing toward my right.

"Do not test me, Ghost King," she muttered, her eyes flashing red as the scale tilted wildly.

If I was awake, I probably would have at least considered listening to the nice, _armed_ lady, but instead I drew my knife in response and shook my head. For some reason I wasn't able to talk. Go figure. My dream couldn't handle my rapier wit.

The woman's face became grim, well grimm_er_, she wasn't very cheerful to begin with, as she drew her sword and left the scale to hang in mid-air. Suddenly she lunged at me. At the last second, her form changed, becoming someone I vaguely recognized but couldn't quite place. Quickly raising my knife to block the swing, I braced for the impact and woke up.

The sky above me had grown dark; I must have slept into the evening, my stomach reminding me of this fact as I heaved myself upright. Trying to calm down my racing heart, I stared back out to sea. Feeling something in my left hand, I opened my palm to see the yellow flowers of Aurora's present, slightly crumpled. When I opened my hand slightly more, I watched with dim amazement as it filled out nicely, returning to its fuller shape. For some reason, this made me give a sigh of relief as I stood up, brushing sand off myself and giving my trench coat a firm shake before pulling it on. My mind wondered idly about the dream as I stared out at the sea for another moment.

My stomach gave a loud moan, jolting me out of any existential thoughts I was having about the dream to the more physical world. I was starving and, no matter what the dream might mean, food came first.

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A/N: Thank you so much for reading this chapter! The character of Nick was provided by Royalmagician, and Aurora Bloom was given by val'tanelle. Thank you for letting me use your characters!

I would love to hear what you think of this chapter, so review please!


	13. I'll Make a Man out of You

A/N: Sorry for the long wait, but I hope the length makes up for it. Relevant and not relevant notes at the end of the chapter!

Disclamier: Not mine, as always!

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**Chapter Thirteen:** I'll Make a Man out of You

I woke slowly, images from my dream merging and twisting with images of the ceiling above me. Finally I blinked, calmly noting the fact that I was awake now. I heaved a sigh, my mind struggling to remember what my dream was about, but the only thing I could remember was a scale—not like the Weight Watchers kind, but the kind that you have to balance stuff on either side. I shook my head slowly, that was weird, and suddenly froze.

It was quiet, too quiet. I peered suspiciously around the cabin. This may be the first time I've ever woken up at Camp Half-Blood by myself because normally either one of two things happens: I get awakened by the morning trumpet call from the Apollo cabin (annoying habit of theirs—since their dad is the sun god, they take it on themselves to wake everyone else up in the morning. So, they're kinda like roosters, really annoying roosters) or, if I don't wake up for that, Andrew comes traipsing in. Neither of those things happened, which made me really wary.

I let a moan escape my mouth as I began to shift around in my bed, working my way out from under the sheets and sitting up. As I reached for my backpack and began to pull clothes out, I kept an eye on the door, half-expecting it to burst open and Andrew to run in. As the seconds ticked by and I slowly got dressed, Andrew never did. He must be working on the shield, I thought once I was out of my pajamas and ready to go. I heaved myself out of bed (yes, I got dressed while still in bed, your point?) and strapped on my knife.

Crossing my room, I reached the door and swung it open revealing the rest of Camp Half-Blood on the sunny November morning. It still seemed to be pretty early, well for me, but other campers were already doing their activities for the day. I paused, unsure what to do, when my stomach gave a demanding growl. _Woah, down Betsy_.

Well, breakfast it is, I thought, heading over to the Dining Hall, hoping to grab a quick breakfast and leave. I didn't want to talk to Chiron at the moment. Considering that I had spent most of last night playing keep away from him, it turned out to be a pretty calm night. After I talked to Aurora, I went and grabbed a dinner, ignoring Chiron's eyes on me the whole time and leaving as soon as I could. After that I sort of wandered around, visiting Mrs. O'Leary in the arena and finally getting around to putting my clothes away (aka—shoving them back into my backpack). Like I said, hopefully I could avoid Chiron today as well.

As I approached the Pavilion, I realized I was in luck; there were still plates of food on the table, though the space was empty of people otherwise. I scrambled up the stairs to the Pavilion to approach the table I normally sat at. Grabbing a couple bread roles, some fruit and a glass of orange juice, I quickly offered some into the fire, before scrambling back out. Off in the distance, the sound of the cleaning harpies coming to clear the tables was getting louder and that was one thing I did not want to deal with in the morning—angry, cleaning chickens.

As I trotted away from the Dining Pavilion (and the approaching evil chicken ladies), I took a huge bite out of my food, my stomach muttering appreciatively as I swallowed and took a sip of the juice. The bread roll was gone in about two seconds before I took a bite into the fresh apple, enjoying the crispness as I continued to sip the juice, wandering around Camp Half-Blood as I munched. I needed to find something to do, if not only to have an excuse for avoiding Chiron, but also to keep myself from getting cabin fever.

But, honestly, what was there for me to do? Most half bloods had some specialty they could work on—Demeter's kids could garden, Hephaestus kids could metalwork—I couldn't really do anything unless it involved dead people, and with the whole Ghost King killer instinct thing going on, it's not really something I wanted to practice at the moment. I sighed, stopping to sweep my eyes in a circle around the campsite, hoping for inspiration to strike as I finished off the last of my juice and apple.

_C'mon, there's got to be some_—a clang suddenly interrupted my thoughts, jolting me. I looked over, scowling slightly down at the arena. Honestly, how was I supposed to come up with an idea when they were clanging and shouting all the time? I blinked and chuckled to myself, shaking my head slowly before walking to the arena. Sometimes, I surprise myself with how slow I can be.

As I walked toward the arena, I thought over the idea I just had; I was getting a shield and I'd never learned how to fight with one, therefore…Oh, come on, do I have to spell it out for you? Now would be a perfect time to train. Another thought almost made me stop short—what if that killer instinct comes back while I'm training? And I can't stop it? I swallowed uncertainly before pressing forward again. The oracle said I would need a shield; I generally tried not to disobey oracles when I could help it. And the three Caballeros were already making one for me, I couldn't just take it and never use it. I nibbled my lip and shook my head again, pressing into the arena, I needed to learn how to use my shield—bottom line. Placing my empty orange juice cup on the bleachers, I meandered over to greet Mrs. O'Leary, eying the trio already in the arena.

I was in luck, the trio was holding swords and shields and the boy of the trio looked like he was something of a teacher. Although they all looked slightly awkward with a sword in their hands—not that they didn't know exactly what to do with them to a kill a monster in about two seconds, it just didn't look quite right, like a puzzle piece trying to fit in the wrong puzzle. _Probably Apollo cabin_, I reasoned. The boy said something which caused one of the girls to roll her grey eyes. Her hair was a rich brown, falling over her shoulders, though some of it was tucked under a Hunter hat. I blinked at her as the guy snapped back a reply, scratching Mrs. O'Leary behind her ear right where she liked it. I didn't think any Hunters were here.

"Chiron asked me to show you how to work with a sword," said the guy, his voice carrying across the arena, his own grey eyes flashing. His hair was a more light brown color which he frequently brushed out of his eyes. "Trust me. I'm not doing this because I want to."

The remaining girl shifted awkwardly on her feet, her own dark hair pulled back into a messy yet stylish ponytail, her blue eyes worried. Her lips moved as she muttered something quietly which her two siblings ignored.

"Trust me, this isn't a walk in the park for me either," the grey eyed girl snapped back, her hands on her hips, her headed cocked angrily to the side. "You think I like being here?"

"Well I know I don't," replied the boy, looking pointedly at the girl.

"Maybe we should try to break them up?" I muttered to Mrs. O'Leary. She gave a worried whine that sounded like a truck backing up and I nodded.

Quickly trotting over, interrupting the grey eyed girl's tirade, "Hey, what's up, guys?" Yeah, I'm cool.

All three stopped to stare at me, the blue eyed girl looking at first relieved that someone had stopped the fight and then cautious. The other two just gaped at me, wearing equally surprised expressions. Apparently they had forgotten about everyone else while they were going at it. I heard, or rather felt, Mrs. O'Leary panting over my shoulder so I figured I probably wasn't the one that actually stunned them into silence so suddenly. Probably.

"Nico, right?" said the boy, recovering first.

"Yeah, that would be me," I said, trying to offer a friendly smile and not be too awkward.

"Sweet, I'm Alasdair Stone," said the 15 year old guy. "Call me Dair."

"Di Angelo?" asked the Hunter hat girl, eyes watching me. The fire from the argument had left her eyes and she now looked sad. When I nodded, she said, "I'm Ray. I knew Bianca."

Ah, that would be why she looked sad. I swallowed the lump in my throat and gave another smile, probably a more painful looking one. "So, you're a Hunter?"

"Not yet," said Ray.

"Unfortunately," muttered Dair.

Ray just gave him a dark look before explaining, "Artemis raised me since I was little for a favor for my dad, Apollo. She wanted me to experience camp life before I decided to join the Hunters." At this, Ray rolled her eyes like the choice was obvious and she didn't quite understand why she had to go through this whole process.

The last girl, her blue eyes shining curiously piped up, cutting off Dair from making some snide retort. "I'm Autumn Zanesfield," she said carefully, her sword twirling absentmindedly in her hand.

I nodded, the girl's face clicking in my mind. I remembered Autumn a little. I didn't really go out of my way to make friends at Camp Half-Blood. It's not that I'm not a friendly person, it's just hard to make friends after all my older friends have "graduated". Not to mention I have something of a stigma around me for being the son of Hades. I don't mind though, I like being a loner, it helps me come and go easier. Andrew, however, is an exception to that rule, but only because he literally follows me everywhere.

Anyway, I vaguely recognized the girl from when she came to Camp Half-Blood chased by a rouge hell hound. Yeah, not the best introduction to all things Hades. Ever since then, she randomly appeared by my side for no apparent reason. It wasn't quite to the extent of Andrew (but hey, no one could be _that_ bad), but she always acted weird around me, like she was trying too hard. I just tried to ignore it. Really, I preferred it if people didn't like me, they just outright said it—I had enough trouble trying to maneuver around my dad's weird moods without having to worry about the mixed feelings of demigods as well. Or maybe it was just a girl thing.

I gave a small smile to the girl, nonetheless, muttering something that hopefully sounded polite. Ray and Dair finished glaring at each other long enough for Dair to ask, "So, do you need help with something?"

I shook myself out of my thoughts and turned to look at the son of Apollo and nodded, "Yeah, actually. I've already learned knife fighting but I've never really learned how to fight with a shield. Do you know any tips?"

"Don't ask him for help, he doesn't have any finesse," said Ray, cutting Dair off as he swelled up a little proudly, the smile on her face mischievous as she twirled the sword in her hand around in the air. He scowled back at her, clearly annoyed, the tip of his sword digging into the dirt. "I can give you some pointers," Ray continued, head tilted jauntily to the side as she examined me.

"He asked me," growled Dair.

"I'm sure I can learn a lot from both of you," I said, feeling a bit overwhelmed, trying to appease the two children of Apollo. I glanced quickly at Autumn and she just shook her head, looking about as tired of the arguing as I felt.

Meanwhile, the two bickering children of Apollo glared at each other, seemingly taking part in a staring contest. I wasn't sure who I wanted to win.

"Fine," said Dair finally, "I'll teach the basic technique and you teach him the 'finesse'." He put air quotes around the last word, still scowling.

Ray gaped for a second, pouting slightly that he was the one to suggest the final compromise and then huffed back, "Fine. Come on, Autumn, let's run through some drills." With that, the girl with the Hunter cap dragged her half sister across the arena, Autumn shooting me a pleading look before she gave in, following obediently behind the other girl.

Dair just continued to scowl, shoving the shield he was holding into my hands before stalking over to grab a new shield for himself. I slipped the shield onto my left arm and swallowed nervously. This might have been a bad idea. Mrs. O'Leary, still hovering over my shoulder, gave a quiet woof. Looking back at her, I could tell she was bored.

"Go on, you can go play," I told her. I didn't really want an audience for how badly I was about to fail. She gave another woof, more excited this time, before cantering across the arena and tackling one of the training dummies, wrestling with it like it was a chew toy, which to her I guess it was.

Dair came back over to me, dark hair in his eyes and a new shield on his arm. He sighed when he finally stopped walking, brushing the hair out of his face, his grey eyes snapping with frustration. "Sorry about that," he said, scowl still prominent on his face. "It's just that….girls, you know?"

I nodded sympathetically, understanding exactly what he was talking about.

Dair sighed again, rolling his shoulders to get himself to relax. "So, what all do you know about fighting with a shield?" he asked once he had calmed down some more.

"Uh…nothing," I replied. Well, that's only half-true, I have used a shield before, just not well.

"Okay," said Dair slowly, drawing out the word. "We'll start from scratch then. Here," he began, tossing his own shield to the ground as he regripped his sword, swinging it around a couple times to get the feel of it as his mind worked. "Okay, the first thing you need to know about using a shield is that it is primarily for _defense_. _Some_ people will tell you that you can fight with a shield," at this, his eyes flicked pointedly over to Ray and Autumn before rolling back over to me, "but when you have a better weapon, like a sword, bow and arrows, really any other weapon, use it. The best defense is a good offense."

I nodded, taking this in, having the sinking suspicion that when I went to be under Ray's tutelage, she would tell me something very different. This didn't make these instructions any less important, though. "So, when you're working with the shield," continued Dair, absentmindedly flicking his sword around, "you are responding to the attacks of your opponent. You have to be able to predict where their strike is going to land and then respond with a strike of your own where they've left themselves open."

I gaped at him a second. "Wait, wait, wait," I interrupted just as Dair took a breath to continue, "I know your dad is the god of prophecy, but predicting stuff isn't exactly in my area of expertise."

Dair gave a wry smirk and shook his head. "No, there's no prophesying about it, it has to do with watching your opponent. The shoulders, wrists and knees are the three key areas you need to keep an eye on—you can always tell what attack your opponent will do when you see those parts move in a certain way."

"Okay," I said slowly, this was beginning to sound a lot like school with memorizing things.

"Look, it just takes practice," said Dair, sounding a little sympathetic like he knew exactly what I was thinking. "Once you learn how to react, it's all muscle memory after that. Come on, try to block this 'on side' attack," he said, slowly swinging his right arm out and toward me as if aiming for my left side.

I pulled my shield out away from my body, jerking slightly, not used to the movement, and met his blade with a soft thunk. "See, that was good," said Dair, "but, see how you left your torso uncovered?" I looked down to see that indeed, I had over responded to Dair's strike and left myself wide open in the front. "You want to move your shield enough so that you intercept the incoming blow but also that you don't leave yourself open."

I nodded quietly, correcting my shield position, trying to remember everything he was saying. It went on much like that as Dair taught me the different ways to respond to each hit. Soon enough, he started speeding up and working in combos as I shifted my shield left, right, up, and down, defending myself only, learning how to make his sword slide off my shield so I wasn't taking direct hits.

"Time to switch!" called out a voice finally, distracting me for a second. In the time I looked over to see Ray and Autumn jogging over, Dair had gone in for a leg shot. Mrs. O'Leary let out a warning bark and I jumped up, guessing somehow (Spidey senses!) that the sword was aiming for my legs. The sword sliced through the air beneath me and Dair stumbled slightly, the momentum of his swing carrying him farther than he thought.

I panted, eyes slightly wide at what had just happened before I grinned. "Well, I think my damage has been done here," said Dair, hair damp from sweat drooping into his eyes. "He's all yours."

"Thanks, Dair," I said, feeling rather pleased with myself for picking up on the shield work so quickly. Dair was right, once I figured what the different muscle movements meant, it was just a matter of responding to that.

Suddenly I felt a yank on the shoulder of my trench coat and I realized that Ray was now dragging me over to her side of the arena, leaving Autumn to Dair's care. "Yeah, yeah, that's great," she was saying as she pulled me.

"You know, I can walk by myself," I informed her, getting my feet back under me and trying to pull away from her in the same instant.

"Oh, you can?" she said in mock surprise, letting me go suddenly which caused me to trip. She giggled as I scowled at her, knowing she was messing with me.

"Aw, come on," she said, her eyes dancing with a dangerous light. All of a sudden, I was very concerned for my safety. "Now that you've learned all the boring stuff from Dair, you can learn the fun stuff from me!"

I arched an eyebrow at her, not entirely sure I wanted to know what 'fun stuff' was. I glanced back over to Dair and Autumn who were now running through a mock duel. "Trust me," said Ray when I looked back at her, an odd expression on her face and I knew she was picturing my sister.

I held back a sigh and instead swallowed nervously. Oh gods, please don't let this hurt.

"Awesome," said Ray, raising her sword and shield to the ready position and I did the same with mine. "Now, certain _boring_ people may have told you that shields are only for defense," her eyes flicked scornfully over to Dair before returning to my face, "but really that's just showing the lack of imagination on _certain people's_ parts. Shields can be used for so much more. For example." And she pushed me down, using the shield like a battering ram to plow me over.

I rolled to my side, looking at her impressed. "It's all a matter of leverage," she instructed, offering a hand to help me up, a grin on her face. "Once you get an opponent off balance, it doesn't take much to knock them over. Now you try." So I tried to knock her over. It took me three attempts before she finally toppled to her rear, a fierce grin on her face like she was enjoying this. I was panting, sweaty and gross already, but also excited. I hadn't had the chance to really duel someone in awhile. And, because I wasn't fighting with something weapon-like, that meant no killer instinct. Flinging my trench coat on to the short wall around the arena, I took my position again.

"Good, I think you've managed shoving," said Ray, flicking a piece of hair out of her face, "there's also bashing." This time, I was prepared for something crazy as she raised her shield and brought it down toward my head. I jerked my shield over my head, ducking underneath it, but also making sure my torso was properly covered as I had just learned.

Ray nodded, stopping her shield in mid air over my head. "Right, good job keeping yourself covered," commented Ray. "Maybe he's good for something after all," she muttered to herself, but continued on, "This is a really good move to stun your enemies, especially if it's done fast enough. Also, if your enemy isn't so good on their shield technique, it can give you the chance to get in a lower cut," she explained before miming a jab to my belly, which was still covered by my shield.

We ran through a couple rounds of "bashing" each other, neither of us making contact and then combined the two moves, shoving and bashing, for a few rounds. Ray was panting by the time we were done. And me? I was sweating like a skinny, white boy. "Okay, there's one more move to teach you, draw your sword," she commanded and I did so hesitantly, hoping something bad wasn't about to happen.

"Now, take a stab right at my chest," she said, dangerously widening the space between her sword and shield.

"Are you serious?" I asked her incredulously. She'd gone crazy, completely 100%, certifiably crazy.

"Yeah, trust me," she said, voice nonchalant, a smirk on her face like she knew what she was putting me through.

I bit my lip and then swallowed. "Okay….sorry," I said before taking a stab at her chest.

Before I could quite see what she had done, there was a twist and my blade clattered out of my hands, her sword was at my throat.

"What just happened?" I said dully as she stepped back, letting the sword fall.

"I disarmed you," she simply as I bent to pick up my knife.

"Other than the obvious," I muttered, looking back up at her as she smirked.

"Here, I'll show you in slow motion," she said, "stab at me again."

I nodded, brow furrowed in concentration as I took another stab at Ray, this time moving in slow motion. As my sword jabbed toward her exposed stomach, cutting between her sword and shield, she brought her sword and shield together, catching my blade at the hilt of her sword, pinning it there with her shield. Then, using her hilt like a lever, she twisted her sword and popped my blade out of my hand again where it clattered to the dirt of the arena.

"Want to give it a try?" she asked, bending down and picking up my sword by the hilt and then passing it to me, slight smirk on her face.

"Yeah, I think so," I said, returning the smile with a slight one of my own. She came at me with her sword, cutting in between my sword and shield, aiming for my chest. Even though she was moving slowly so I had time to react, I struggled to respond in time, trying to figure out how the new move was to work. I brought my blade and practice shield together, catching her sword with my hilt, pinning it there with my shield. I exhaled slowly as she looked at me. That was lucky.

She looked at me, arching her eyebrow. "And now?" she asked, after I had gotten over the slight shock that I had actually stopped her blade.

_Right_, I thought, and then gave my sword a twist, kinda just hoping for the best. To my great surprise, Ray's sword popped out of her hand and clattered to the ground. She beamed at me as she stooped to pick it up. "Excellent, now just to do it faster."

So we did. Soon, we were running drills using the three new shield techniques—shoving, bashing, and disarming—increasing the speed as we did it.

"Alright, alright, that should be enough," said Dair's voice once Ray and paused for breath.

I turned to look, panting and sweaty as Dair and Autumn walked over.

"Let's do a practice battle now," said Ray, even though she looked exhausted, a challenge still sparked in her eyes.

Dair's eyes responded to the challenge, even though he quickly glanced at me. I shrugged slightly and a predatory smile spread across his face. "Okay, me against you. Nico and Autumn will face each other on the other side of the arena," he said, already Regripping his sword and shaking out his shield arm.

Ray smirked back obviously pleased with the arrangement before she gave a mock bow to her half brother.

I swallowed nervously, putting my shield in its sheath before ducking away, gesturing for Autumn to follow. She trotted after me. "Sibling conflict," I muttered when she caught up to me as we walked to the other side of the arena, "It's probably best if we stay as far away from that as possible."

Autumn nodded. "Hopefully that'll tire them out enough so they won't be arguing the rest of the day."

"You think that'll actually do it?" I asked stopping to look back at her, catching a glimpse of the already-begun Apollo Battle Royale over her shoulder.

"No, probably not," Autumn admitted, a slight smile ghosting over her face before she got serious. "So I guess we fight?"

"Yeah, uh…," I said, glancing down at my sword. "How about I get a practice sword?" I suggested, deciding that accidently stabbing someone with Stygian blade might not be the best idea.

Autumn nodded again as I trotted over to the rack of spare weapons and shields, picking a sword at random. Gods, the Apollo cabin is crazy. You get the block of wood variety that may or may not be terrified of my shadow and then you get the boarding-on-Ares-rage variety, I thought as I tested the weight of the sword. Well, this should work for now, I decided, taking the somewhat worn sword back over to where Autumn stood, standing in front of her.

"Just one round?" she asked hopefully and I suddenly noticed that she was sweating as much as I was. And, even though I'm not too muscular, I've built up my stamina over the year so I can go for a long time, however, Autumn hadn't been training for as long as I have. I nodded, feeling grateful, even though I wasn't dead on my feet, my shield arm was starting to feel sore.

"Let's start then," I said and then took a swing at her side. Okay, that might have been somewhat of a cheap shot, but, for my defense, I wasn't actually aiming for her, I was just trying to feel out how she reacted. It was a trick I had learned from my dad, which, by the way, sword fighting with Hades is terrifying. If you die, you don't go anywhere!

She flinched away, bringing her sword up and repositioning her shield to properly cover her body. Eyeing me carefully now, a curious light still in her eyes, she took a swing up at my head. I glanced the blow off my shield and then repaid the cut with a jab underneath her arm left exposed from the cut at my head. Dancing away from the cut, she swung her shield arm wildly, using it as a block as she moved, not only to prevent me from moving, but to blind me as to where she was going.

She then took another cut at me, aiming for my sword arm after she brought her shield back in. I parried the blow with my own sword, the blades hitting with a satisfying clang before I pushed it out and away, knocking her off balance. She brought her shield up quickly to receive the blow I was about to give to her shoulder and then rolled away, letting the momentum of the missed shot carry her away from me.

As I was fighting, I noticed that she didn't like to take direct hits; however, she didn't waste attacks, aiming for key areas each time she attacked. I responded to her attacks carefully, trying to feel where her defense was weakest. More interesting than her attack strategy, though was that the killer instinct was starting to grow in the pit of my stomach. And by interesting, I mean creepy. In some ways, it felt like adrenaline, powering my moves and focusing my attacks, but the intent behind those attacks was morphing from just a friendly bout to the urge to kill. I swallowed, I had to end this fast before I lost control.

As I allowed my mind to wander, I let my sword and shield spread apart and lower, leaving myself wide open. Blinking suddenly, I noticed Autumn was taking a sharp cut at my chest, pointing toward my throat. Before I even realized what I was doing, I brought my sword and shield back up, slamming them together.

Autumn's arm was jolted as I caught her sword with my hilt and shield. Her eyes widened but she didn't have any time to react further before I twisted my sword and popped her blade right out of her hand, letting it clatter to the ground. She stood panting before she gave a quiet smile, "Good bout, Nico."

I just nodded, not trusting myself to speak as I watched her pick up her sword. I looked at her, trying to stop my imagination from picturing what I had almost done to her. Trembling slightly, I creaked over to the weapons rack to return my borrowed sword and shield, I was more thankful than ever that I hadn't used my Stygian blade.

When I returned to her side, I had recovered enough to stop from shaking and I noticed that Autumn was watching Ray and Dair who were still going at it.

"Should we just leave them?" I asked, thankful to hear that my voice wasn't shaking or an octave higher than normal, or something like that.

"Oh, definitely," she murmured, flashing another smile at me which I actually managed to return this time.

Suddenly the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as if I could feel someone's eyes on me. I turned sharply, glancing around to see if I could spot whoever was creeping on me. Sitting at the top of the bleachers around the arena was a dark kid, skin tan from the sun, but hair a rich blond. He stared at me coldly, his piercing grey eyes staring at me across the field. He was an attractive kid, if you went for the whole "Lonesome Prince" thing, or you were a girl, but he was just kinda creeping me out—which was saying something, normally I do the creeping.

"Eliseo," said Autumn, a note of half-longing, half-worry in her voice. I arched an eyebrow at her pained expression. If she swooned over that kid, I swear to the gods, I was not going to catch her.

"Yeah, he's a weird kid," I noted. I had seen him around Camp Half-Blood before, it was hard to miss him, and now that she said his name, I remembered a little bit of his back story. Apparently his family was killed in a plane crash and he had lived on his own for awhile before a satyr found him and brought him to camp. Oh yeah, and his mom is Nemesis. Lucky kid. Not.

Autumn blushed slightly at my expression but nodded as well. "But he's so _tormented_," she said, saying "tormented" as if it were the next hot commodity in "Cosmo Girl". Not that I know what that is. Bianca used to read them, I swear.

"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered.

"What did you say?" asked Autumn, her eyes still trained on Eliseo as he stood up and walked down the bleachers, leaving the arena. At least he was no longer staring at me.

"I said, 'I'm going to take a shower.' I'll see you at lunch," I said, covering up my sarcasm and giving a little awkward wave before turning and leaving.

"Oh sure, see ya," said Autumn absentmindedly, eyes still trained on Eliseo.

I left the arena, wandering back to my cabin and grabbing some shower things before heading to the shower house. It was nice to get cleaned up after the sweaty work of learning how to use a shield and I spent my sweet time under the hot water. My fingers were at the raisin stage by the time I finally got out of the shower and quickly got dressed, hearing the bell that meant that lunch was being served at the Dining Pavilion. I briefly considered skipping the meal, keeping up the effort of hiding from Chiron, but my stomach adamantly protested this and so I found myself trotting across the grass to the eating area.

Most of the camp was already there. Chiron stood in place at the head table with Mr. D to his side. I spotted Nick, Iggy, and Andrew at their separate tables, covered in oil smudges and looking slightly worse for wear. I couldn't decide whether to be excited or nervous about that. Carefully slinking up onto the platform, I did my best to be ignored. This seemed to work as Chiron didn't try to get my attention, which I was very grateful for. I sat down at my empty table and waited for the food to appear.

It must have been a few minutes later that I realized that I had just been sitting a staring at my empty plate and that noise of the Pavilion had disappeared completely, the shield practice must have tired me out more than I thought. Looking around, slightly nervous that about the silence and wondering if I had accidentally done something to make everyone stare at me again, I finally saw a satyr standing with a girl in front of Chiron. The two looked exhausted and I would bet my blade that they had just arrived at camp. The satyr was a rather scrawny, nervous looking fellow, but his eyes were hard and determined, clearly he was more than half the reason the girl standing next to him made it safely to camp. The girl looked about as beat up as the satyr and she was cradling her left wrist like it was sprained or something. Her eyes and hair were roughly the same color of light brown and she wore a white knitted hat.

Chiron was just saying something about how the girl should be taken to the Big House for some medical treatment as well as nectar and ambrosia when suddenly something gold began to shimmer over her head. The girl looked up at it wearily as the Hermes table exploded with applause, Nick fist pumping as he bounded up to go great his newest camper. Above the girl's head slowly spun a staff with two snakes wrapped around it, a caduceus—the symbol of Hermes. Ever since the war with more and more kids being claimed, the Hermes cabin was roughly the size of the other cabins now and so didn't mind getting new campers quite as much as when I was there briefly.

"Welcome to the Hermes cabin, Becca!" Nick said, putting a hand on the girl's shoulder and flashing a brilliant smile. Becca was her name apparently and she must have said it earlier, or Nick was psychic. The girl blushed slightly at Nick's grin but didn't otherwise react, too exhausted from her journey.

Chiron nodded, a soft smile on his face. "Nick, could you please escort Becca to the Big House for treatment and then would you be so kind as to give her a tour?"

"Sure thing," said Nick cheerfully before turning the girl. "Come on, it's just up this way…"

Once the pair had left, Chiron nodded and food magically appeared on the tables. The noise in the eating area returned to normal as we wandered up to put some of our food in the fire as an offering. As I was scrapping a chicken strip and some fries into the fire I heard the satyr giving a report to Chiron that made me stop cold.

"The monsters weren't too bad this time," the satyr was saying, "the most violent thing we ran into were some harpies around Queens, but as we got closer and closer to camp, we kept seeing more and more ghosts. I mean, you see the occasional ghost from time to time, but nothing like this. These ghosts didn't do anything though; they just seemed to be waiting. Still we didn't get any sleep with those guys around." The satyr shook his head tiredly and I swallowed nervously.

I hadn't really stopped to think about the ghosts that were following me, but I guess I had my answer now. It seems that whatever kept the monsters out of Camp Half-Blood also did a fairly good job at keeping the ghosts out but that didn't stop them from gathering in the area. Great, just fantastic. I needed to get a move on if I didn't want a re-creation of Ghostbusters on my hands.

I started walking again, jolting myself from my stunned stupor, feeling Chiron's eyes on my back. Yeah, he knew what caused the ghosts coming too. Wonderful. I ate quickly, keeping my eyes down, and I was the first to leave the Dining Pavilion. I wandered around the camp and finally found myself by the lake, lounging by the water's edge and dipping my toes in every so often. Not an altogether bad place to be.

The sun was warm on my face this afternoon, even though it was November, and the water felt nice on my feet. I idly considered going to check on the progress of my shield, to see if there was any way that it could get done faster so I could leave sooner, but my body refused to respond to my thoughts so I just relaxed by the lake.

I dozed slightly. I'm not sure how much time past, but I know the next thing I remember was a familiar voice growing louder as the speaker approached. I cracked an eye open just in time to see Nick leading a much more lively Becca toward the lake. Her wrist was wrapped in a bandage and the bags were gone from underneath her eyes—it's a miracle what a little food of the gods will do for you.

"And here you'll see our lovely lake. We have canoeing down here and we sometimes go swimming when it's warmer. You might run into a couple of water nymphs down here, too," said Nick, gesturing over to the canoe shed on the far side of the lake. "Ah, and here you can also catch a glimpse of an unhealthily pale demigod attempting to get a tan."

"Ha ha," I said dryly, sitting up to look at the pair as they approached.

"I didn't realize you were listening," said Nick, an innocent expression on his face as Becca and I snorted in unison.

"Sure you didn't, and I'm a pegasus," I replied, smiling nonetheless. "Sorry that you're stuck with him," I said to Becca.

She shrugged, a familiar mischievous Hermes glint in her eye. Never mind, she would fit in just fine. "I'm doing alright," she said nonchalantly.

"Yep, I'm just giving Becca here a tour," said Nick, stating the obvious, giving Becca a friendly pat on the back.

"Well, don't let my tanning distract you," I said sarcastically.

Nick beamed at me as Becca giggled. "Oh, sorry, I didn't introduce myself," said Becca, remembering her manners. "I'm Becca Viaggio, daughter of Hermes, but I guess you probably knew that already," she finished, a little embarrassed, remembering the scene from lunch.

"And I'm Nico di Angelo," I said, after a pause as she looked at me expectantly. "I'm a son of Hades," I added after because I knew she would ask next anyway, bracing for impact.

Her eyes almost bugged out of her head. "_The_ Hades?" she asked as she gaped at me.

"Do you know any other Hades?" I asked in turn, trying to keep a reign on my sarcasm and failing spectacularly.

"Oh," she said weakly and I shifted awkwardly in the grass I was sitting on. Generally I get one of two reactions when people hear who my dad is: they either give me a look of pity as if they are sorry for me (which I find kind of annoying), or they seem scared, perhaps they know someone who died or they just fear death (this response is also kind of annoying). There's also the Andrew response, the oh-my-gods-I-want-to-be-by-you-every-second-you're-so-cool, but that's a one person only deal. Anyway, even though the other two responses are typical, it doesn't mean I'm used to them.

"Oh," said Becca again, "that's…interesting." She seemed to be trying to find something to say, but couldn't find the right words. The emotions on her face seemed to be teetering between the two common responses like she couldn't figure out exactly which one she wanted to feel.

Silence reigned for another couple minutes before Nick commented, "_Awk-ward_."

I tried to shrug it off and offer the girl a smile, but she didn't seem to be buying it. Fortunately, Captain Obvious, I mean Nick, was there to move things along. "So, how about I show you the stables for the pegasus!" he said, voice cheery nonetheless.

"Sure," said Becca, following her counselor as he bounced away. "Nice meeting you, Nico," Becca said over her shoulder, voice apologetic.

"Yeah, you to," I returned half-heartedly, giving a sad little wave as they left.

And that was pretty much all the exciting stuff of that day. After I spent a couple more hours by the lake, it was time for dinner. I went straight to bed right after that, starting to feel the soreness in my arm from the shield practice really kick in. I fell asleep fairly quickly, but I didn't sleep well, my dreams were plagued by images of scales and certain sons of Nemesis.

* * *

A/N: So, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Once again, I'm so sorry for the long wait, but this chapter is the longest one yet. It is kinda filler-ish, but you can't deny that Nico needed to become less fail at learning how to use a shield. Thanks go to Shadowfox94, M.M., RavingNarniacAnarane, an Anonymous reviewer, royalmagician, and val'tanelle for the submission and use of your characters. I had a lot of fun intergrating them all into the story. =]

I should probably mention that I WON'T BE TAKING ANYMORE CHARACTER SUBMISSIONS! Just so everyone knows. I want to include all the characters that were submitted, but I also want Nico to leave Camp Half Blood at some point.

So, I think that's it. Did you love it? Hate it? I don't care, review it!


	14. Monster

**A/N:** With all the trouble I had writing last chapter, this chapter just flew by. More notes at the bottom.

Disclaimer: Not mine!

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen:** Monster

Thursday was pretty boring; I climbed the lava rock wall a couple of times, wandered around Camp Half-Blood and just generally avoided Chiron. Fortunately, after a good night's sleep, my arm was no longer sore from the shield practice, so that was nice; I didn't have to worry about whatever my next arm movement would be and whether or not it would hurt my arm. I kind of avoided everyone actually. I mean, I did stop by the forges once, but after I caught a glimpse of what looked like an impromptu target range with Nick and Andrew throwing things at whatever was the target and then those things exploding, I high-tailed it out of there. With my luck, the next time one of those things exploded, it would be me.

So it was a pretty boring day and I decided to go to bed early again. I sighed as I got under the covers. Tomorrow was Friday, which was the day that Iggy promised the shield would be done. Once I got it, I could get out of here and get on with this mission. I might not be able to see any ghosts around me, the border around the camp seemed to be doing a pretty good job of keeping them out, but I sure was able to sense them. Whenever I closed my eyes, their voices clambered in my mind, getting worse as the week wore on; it was like having iPod ear buds in my ears all the time and not being able to take them out. An iPod with really bad ear buds because the voices kept getting louder but then softer again, as if from a badly tuned radio, and they were always slightly muted somehow. What the voices did give me, though, was a pounding headache. _Just get the shield and get out_, I told myself as my head throbbed, _get the shield and get out_. I drifted off to sleep with those words running around my head.

* * *

I was running, from what I didn't know. I panted as I moved, jumping over the ground and dodging around objects that sprang out of the mist in front of me to try and shake whatever was chasing me. I didn't look back, though, because I knew that's always how the people in the movies died. They looked back.

_Wait, movies?_ I suddenly stopped running and I literally just stopped, no skidding or tripping, suddenly I just wasn't running anymore.

"What's going on?" I wanted to ask, sure this was a dream, but the words didn't come out of my mouth.

Two figures walked towards me out of the mist, both I recognized. One was the sword lady from my dream before, the one who looked like an angel that you wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley. The other was Eliseo Fair, the boy who had been staring at me the other day.

"You cannot run from Fate," said the woman simply. I don't know if she was answering my question or simply stating a fact, but either way I disagreed with her.

"You should already know how I feel about this," I tried to snap back, but again my mouth didn't seem to be working.

"Mother, let me talk to him," said the boy, face neutral as he looked at me.

The woman shot the boy a cold look and I knew suddenly who the woman was, Nemesis the goddess of Revenge.

"Look, lady," I said, finally able to speak, changing my tactic slightly now that I knew who she was, "I don't think I deserve to be 'given what is due'. I mean, I've already got this curse on me that I need to try and break, I've got dead people following me everywhere, everyone in my family is either dead or a god of the dead…do I need to keep going?"

I wasn't trying to start a pity parade, but I figured that if she saw how much suck I've already had to go through, then she might change her mind about the whole killing me bit.

"The fact that you are trying to break this curse, which has been _fated_ and set for all children of Hades, shows an ample supply of hubris," she said, voice hard like a frozen pole that you get your tongue stuck to on a winter's day. And suddenly she was about three inches from my face, massively invading my personal space. "And I hate hubris," she finished, voice, if possible, even colder than it had been seconds before.

"Isn't this still a bit proactive?" I asked, trying to keep my cool with a goddess of revenge breathing into my face. "I haven't exactly _done_ anything yet."

"He is right, mother," said Eliseo cutting in, voice cool as he calmly met his mother's eyes, "as I said before, let me talk to him. If you kill him now, payment will be on your head for taking a life unnecessarily. If I convince him not to do this, then no harm will be done."

Nemesis eased back from me, eyes on her son with an almost proud look in them as she strode towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"And if he does not?" she asked, voice still cold, but not bone-shatteringly frigid.

"Then I shall take the payment," he intoned, looking at me now, hazel eyes examining me almost disinterestedly, a vaguely sympathetic look on his face.

And I woke up. Gods, I need to find Morpheus. I've got a serious ax to grind with that guy.

* * *

I heaved myself out of bed and swung my legs over the side, drenched in sweat, as if the run at the beginning of the dream hadn't been entirely a dream. I sat like that for a few minutes, letting the thoughts run like frantic hamsters around my head. I tried to find a way out of this, but I knew if I ran, not only would Eliseo be on my tail, but also an infuriated Nemesis. I had a sinking suspicion that those two had appeared in my dream as a warning. To keep things 'fair'. Yeah right.

Well, this was going to suck. A lot.

After that helpful bit of thinking, I stood up out of bed, putting my knife sheath on, but not putting on my trench coat which left me in jeans and a sort of smelly t-shirt. A trench coat might look really cool in a fight, but it did inhibit my mobility some and tonight I wanted to take every advantage I could get.

I closed the door behind me as I left the cabin and stopped, looking around Camp Half-Blood. Now that I actually decided that I was going to go confront this guy, I wasn't entirely sure where to go. I sighed, exhaling slowly to try and get myself to calm down. Looking around the camp, it seemed pretty quiet. The only sound I heard was a faint clanging coming from over by the forges and that only happened every so often. The air was cool, making my breath appear as steam in the air, apparently the Summer weather we had recently gotten in early November was going to become more like Fall or even Winter weather soon. I was starting to regret not bringing my trench coat, but I decided that I would more likely than not be sweating soon enough.

As I allowed myself to relax, I felt some of my defenses slipping and the hasty guard I had unwittingly put up around my mind cracked, the voices of the dead rushing in. I don't know why this hadn't happened before as I clutched my temples and gritted my teeth, maybe the ghosts outside Camp Half-Blood had reached a critical mass or something but all I know was now they all seemed to know they had my attention and were trying to keep it.

My head pounded with their voices. People of all ages and races clambered in my mind, speaking their own languages, yelling their demands from me, but all very dead. I'm not sure what they wanted my attention for; Charon was the one who was supposed to take the souls of the dead to the Underworld. It was probably just the ghost power pulling them in, drawing the souls like moths to a light, making them think they had found the opening to the Underworld when it was really just me.

"SHUT UP!" I yelled, just remembering to keep it in my mind at the last minute. Miraculously, all the voices did as I said. I forgot that with the increase of my ghost drawing powers also came the increase of my power to control them. With a familiar deadly fire kindling in my stomach I spoke, I mean thought, quickly. "Okay, I need to find this guy who wants to kill me."

The ghosts were silent, as if confused by what I just said. In retrospect, I probably would have been confused too. Why on earth would I want to run _towards_ someone who wanted to kill me? Because I'm just that fun, loving of a guy, that's why.

Remind me that I need to get a new hobby.

"The forest," one of the ghost voices offered suddenly and was quickly joined by others in agreement, muttering the word "forest" in various pitches and languages. I'm not entirely sure how they knew, if they did know, but it was the only clue I had.

"Thanks guys," I thought quickly, before raising my defenses again, which is something I've never had to do before. It sort felt like when I emerge from shadow-traveling, where I'm separating myself from the shadows. In this case, it was the same thing, but instead of my body being separated, it was almost as if I was stuffing cotton in my ears, muffling the sound of the ghosts.

Blinking, I found myself panting heavily, but fortunately the sounds of the ghosts were all but gone, but it had taken a lot out of me to shut them up. I sighed and then scowled slightly. I wish someone had written a book for me, you know like "Growing up Ghost King: Your Body, Your Changes, and You." It would make things a whole lot easier. That would be another thing to complain to dad about if I survived this, but there wasn't anything to do with that now. To the forest I go.

And I went, walking around the other cabins to finally cross into the edge of the forest. I don't know if you know this, but the forest is creepy at night. It doesn't help that there are random noises from every which way as some of the creatures that live in the woods do their best monster-ing at night, but also the trees themselves look pretty creepy, especially on a somewhat cloudy, cool, Fall night like it was then. I felt like I was walking on a marching band for all the noise I was making through the underbrush and fallen leaves, but I tried to stay calm and keep my eyes peeled for Eliseo Fair.

Suddenly, the trees opened up and I found myself before a giant rock, one that was hauntingly familiar.

"A great battle was fought here," commented a voice above me and I looked up to see a figure lounging on top of the rock.

"The Battle of the Labyrinth," I said cautiously, recalling the name that one of the campers had come up with for the fight when I was eleven, approaching the rock.

Eliseo simply nodded, watching me as I walked towards him, pulling myself up onto the rock but keeping my distance, not trusting the guy enough to get anywhere within arm's length. I stared at him in return, looking over his dark skin, almost olive-toned in complexion, his light hair, and his cold, hazel eyes.

"So," I began, fed up with waiting for the guy to say something. Granted, I hadn't waited that long. "Do children of Nemesis have the ability to walk in dreams now?"

"Only when we are doing things for our mother, her work, so to speak," he answered slowly, looking away to stare out over the forest. "It's just another way of trying to balance the scale. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't."

"Glad to know my dad isn't the only one that uses fear to do his work," I muttered, standing stiffly, feeling a little awkward standing over the guy, but I sure as Hades wasn't going to sit down.

"Not that it normally works," said Eliseo, continuing almost as if he hadn't heard me. "Then mother goes to seek payment. I'm afraid she enjoys that part more." Here, Eliseo regained his sad smile, the one I had seen in the dream, but now it seemed almost worse, as if he knew what he had to do and regretted doing it. Not that this would stop him.

"So, do all children of Nemesis get to be the ones to act as Mommy's little tax collector, or is that a position she only gives to her favorites?" I asked bitterly, sort of understanding where he was coming from. He was like me, driven by the half of him that wasn't human to do things that just shouldn't happen.

"It is a position I do with pride, as a son of Nemesis," he answered, turning back to look at me and slowly standing. I tensed, preparing myself to grab my blade, but he stood relaxed, still not ready to fight. "Just as you bear the curse of the Ghost King, for the pride and honor of your father."

I scowled at him. "Did it ever occur to you that I don't want to live under the law of my dad? That you don't have to live at the beck and call of your mother?" I snapped back. But there was one difference between him and me, I was fighting this. I was fighting this with everything I had whereas Eliseo had just given up. Never mind, understanding was gone, there was only pity left.

"What's the point of resisting something you have a natural gift for?" asked Eliseo in turn, a fierce light in his eyes and a strange smirk on his face. "The gifts from my mother help me to do the things I do, so I do them, thus serving my mother as a consequence. Fighting a part of who you are is nonsense."

I gaped at him for a moment, my mouth flapping uselessly as I tried to muster an argument against him. Suddenly my whole mission seemed pointless. Why should I fight what I am? Truly, what gifts or abilities did I have beyond interacting with dead things? My mind reeled as I stared at Eliseo, feeling deflated, by this verbal punch in the gut. There really wasn't anything I could do beyond working with the dead. If I gave up those powers then what did I have? Would I lose who I am completely if I followed the quest? If I did, would I ever be able to see Bianca again, or even dad?

And really, who was I to go against an ancient curse all by myself? Did I really think I had the chance to actually break it when I had messed up so many times in my life? Bianca's face flashed before my mind's eye. I knew her death wasn't Percy's fault or mine's or really anyone's but still a small part of me wondered what could have happened if I discovered my powers sooner, if I had just been better. I let out a shaking breath, feeling as if I was seeping into the earth as doubts and questions swirled around my mind. What do I do now? Give up?

_I'm not a killer_, noted a small voice in my mind, almost as an observation. The tattered thoughts that were fluttering around in my mind screeched to a resounding halt as I repeated the thought to myself. _I'm not a killer_. Yes, that's right, if I give into this, I give into becoming a murderer, and that was something I. Would. Not. Do. I looked up fiercely at Eliseo, feeling my head clear out for the first time in what felt like months.

"If you lose yourself to your 'abilities' then you have lost everything," I answered finally, feeling triumph roar in my gut, and not the killer instinct like so many times before, but real, pure victory. "This curse on me says that I am to end the lives of other people if I succumb to it and that is something I will never do. I may be a child of Hades but I am not a killer. I will not give up."

Eliseo almost seemed to stumble at this pronouncement, losing his composure for a second as my words seemed to smack him out of his calm. He seemed genuinely shaken by what I had said, as if this had never occurred to him and he just stared back at me.

Looking at him, I felt the pity reemerge and just shook my head. "I'm sorry what your abilities drive you to do, but I'm not going to submit to mine. _I_ determine my course," I said softly, trying to ease the blow as I started to move away, not quite turning away, but glancing down to watch my footing.

"You dare challenge Fate?" asked Eliseo, his voice so faint that I barely heard him.

"What?" I asked, looking back up at him in enough time to catch his sword coming toward my face. I dodged out of the way, pulling out my Stygian blade as I moved.

"You don't want to do this," I said, gritting my teeth to catch his next cut on my blade, our weapons clanging. His charge hadn't knocked him off the balance, but it did give him a wild swing, which was fortunately just what I needed to give myself enough time to get in the fight. I shoved his blade away, knocking him off balance this time.

"Challenging Fate is hubris and will lead to your downfall!" screeched Eliseo almost fanatically, eyes wild as he quickly checked himself and took another swing at me. He had completely lost himself now, which made him unsteady in his fighting, but it also made him more dangerous. I had seen the kid fight in the arena a couple of times for training, he was good, but now his movements lacked the fine control of someone who was in command of their emotions.

"You might have missed the memo," I said while I knocked his sword away, watching him for his next move, "but that's what demigods _do_, we challenge things that aren't supposed to be challenged." I caught his blade again, letting it slide down and away from me, but not taking the opportunity to attack, fighting offensively with a Stygian blade could be dangerous.

Eliseo just yelled at this, a combination of frustration and anger in the shout, and started taking cuts at me thick and fast, trying to nick me on the arms and legs. It was all I could do to keep up with the infuriated demigod. Dancing away from him, I decided to change my methods quickly. Clearly I wasn't going to be able to actually _hurt_ him, but I might be able to tire him out if I played keep away long enough. My stamina is something to be reckoned with after the years of working on my shadow-traveling and other powers from being a child of Hades—before the Ghost King thing started kicking in, at least.

So I dodged, rolled, and ducked as Eliseo's cuts became more frantic and his breathing haggard. I kept my breath even, though, and my thoughts clear, looking for a way to disarm him once he got too tired to fight. The minutes trickled by and the only noise was Eliseo's heavy breathing and the noises of the night.

"Eliseo, please stop, I don't want hurt you!" I said through gritted teeth once I saw his steps beginning to falter. Unfortunately, trying to talk was enough to throw me off my dodging and I winced as a blow caught me off guard, nicking my elbow.

"I do the work of my mother," said Eliseo fiercely, seemingly proud, pleased that he had finally gotten a cut in on me.

I snarled back, half at my stupidity and half in anger at the other demigod, feeling the killer instinct explode in the pit of my stomach. Suddenly, it was if I had been given a shot of adrenaline directly into my veins, blood pounding in my ears and breath suddenly heavy. Even though I felt as though my whole body was shaking from the sudden fierce energy, my senses were strangely clear; I could clearly see Eliseo's face, almost as if it was broad day light, I could smell the sweat on his skin, and I could hear every little noise, from the beating of the other demigod's heart to the noises in the underbrush nearby. But the strangest thing was the odd metallic taste in my mouth, which I somehow knew to be blood, and the whispering in my head that demanded for his. Frankly I was surprised it hadn't come sooner, but I was also terrified with the severity that it sprang on me, never has it been so strong, so demanding of blood. Perhaps because, somewhere in the deep recesses, in the darkest part of my heart, I _did_ want to kill him.

_No!_ I thought angrily to myself and drove my knife into the rock beneath my feet. Almost as if the ground was butter and my knife was the most unnecessarily deadly butter knife in the world, the ground split and shuddered. Or rather, the large rock that we were standing on split and shuddered, cracking like it did all those years ago when the Labyrinth opened at that spot. Fortunately, the Labyrinth was gone, so Eliseo didn't fall into that, but he still did fall, his body wedging into the crack I had just formed.

He writhed back and forth, struggling to escape and muttering curses at me, but he was stuck in the crevasse. I stood over him panting, feeling the urge pounding me in my head and coursing through my veins.

_There, he's just right there. Kill him! Do it now!_

Eliseo looked up at me slowly, his breath catching as his battle rage drained from his eyes and he saw the look in mine.

_Look at him. He's cornered, terrified of you. Just put him out of his misery_.

I slowly raised my Stygian blade to eye level, admiring with some distracted part of my mind how its clear surface reflected Eliseo's pale face.

_Yes, perfect. Get his blood, his soul, _Ghost King.

Suddenly I moved, pitching the blade into the underbrush, as far away from me as possible and gasped, feeling as if I had just dunked my head into a cold bucket of water. I stood still, horrified of what I had almost done. The urge was so much stronger now, stronger than I could even believe, and it was no longer an urge, it was a _voice_.

"I don't…," began Eliseo, his voice pitiful as I collapsed to the ground next to him, feeling as if everything holding me up had been cut away.

"This curse on me," I explained dully, "it's going to turn me into a monster, so forgive me if I don't want to give up on finding how to break it." I spat bitterly toward the ground, looking at my hands numbly, finally they were trembling from everything that had just happened.

"But the balance?" began Eliseo helplessly and I could feel his hazel eyes on me, as if asking another question entirely.

"I know," I snapped back, feeling the urge growling in my stomach, but then I hissed, cutting myself off to let myself settle back down, "but if I don't correct this balance in _me_ then a lot of people are going to die. It may be pride or hubris or whatever, but I don't want to turn into something that isn't me anymore." I stopped and swallowed, feeling the last embers of the killer urge die out. "Even if it means losing all of my powers."

It was silent for awhile, both of us just listening to the night and each other. The thoughts whirled helplessly around my mind, but I couldn't make any progress trying to decide what to do next. My body, though, slowly stopped shaking and I felt myself calm down with the last fading of the curse of the Ghost King even as the cut on my elbow bled sluggishly.

"My mom will still chase after you, you know," said Eliseo finally, breaking the silence.

I looked at him for the first time since I threw the knife away and snorted. "You've given up, then?" I asked, trying to sound sarcastic, but more sounding bitter.

"Yes, in a way," said Eliseo, offering a slight smile, which, now that he wasn't trying to attack me, was almost charming. Again, if you went for the 'tormented' thing. "You are trying to right a balance, the one inside yourself." I snorted again at how corny this sounded and Eliseo gave an almost rueful smile. "If you do this," Eliseo continued nonetheless, "an even greater imbalance will be corrected, the one against all the children of Hades."

I blinked at him, not entirely sure what to say. Sure it sounded a little bit like a plot out of a Disney movie, except Disney movies normally didn't include curses that drove to murder, but in a way, he was right. I was fixing a balance, one that sorely needed fixing.

"How about I help you out of this hole?" I said, offering a smile in turn.

"That would be great, my foot's starting to fall asleep," said Eliseo, an almost teasing note in his voice.

I chuckled slightly before raising my hand, palm down, to shoulder level and closing my eyes, exhaling slowly, but then stopped. Normally, I would have just moved the rock back together, pushing Eliseo out with the stone beneath his feet, but trying to do that so soon after the deathly urge just seemed like I was pushing my luck.

"Here, take my hand. I'll pull, you push," I said instead, offering my hand down to him. He grabbed it with both of his and I added my other hand to the pile. The first couple tugs were unsuccessful in pulling Eliseo out of the hole; he was wedged in pretty tight.

"Maybe if you tried wiggling your hips," I suggested, not quite realizing what I was saying as I said it.

"Well, Nico, you just had to say," snarked Eliseo, smirking shamelessly.

"I could just leave you here," I retorted, scowling down at him.

"Okay, okay," said Eliseo chuckling as he wiggled his hips as I pulled again. With the sound of rocks cracking and hips shaking, Eliseo popped out of the hole, his legs scrambling underneath him to get footing on firm rock as I stumbled backwards from the sudden release, arms wind-milling.

Reaching out, Eliseo pulled back onto the rock, preventing me from falling off the huge boulder. We both stood panting, looking at each other. "Thanks," I said finally, once my breath had stabilized after both pulling Eliseo out of the crack and me nearly falling to my death or at least a very paniful landing.

'Yeah, you too," Eliseo panted back. "Now we should probably go find your sword," he added, looking at the bushes around us as if hoping to spot the pitch black weapon in the dead of night.

A tremor went through my body and I furiously shook my head. "No," I said sharply, "I'll come back for it later—" _If I ever come back for it,_ I added silently, it was just too dangerous to have right now. "I'm going back to bed," I said rather shortly, clambering down off the rock, not looking back, leaving Eliseo alone in the forest.

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**A/N:** Whew, this chapter just flew out of my pen! When the different OCs were coming in, I knew I wanted to do something special with this character from val'tanelle, so thank you so much for giving him to me! This is almost the end of the Camp Half-Blood arc, just one more chapter and then Nico is off on his quest.

Did you love it? Hate it? Have an opinion about Nico's philosophizing? I would love to hear about it, so please leave a review!


	15. Wave the Flag

Author's Note: So sorry for such a long delay between updating! Consider this a Halloween present or sorts, I guess. Anyway, longer A/N at the bottom! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Not mine!

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Okay, so I know I've complained about mornings before. A lot. But I've come to realize something—it's not so much mornings I dislike, it's waking up. Especially when it involves a heart attack, 3 over eager demigods, and someone almost getting strangled. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

I tottered back to my cabin after my rendezvous in the woods and promptly collapsed into bed, not even changing my clothes. Once my face hit the pillow, I was dead. Well, not _dead_-dead, but for all intents and purposes, dead. I slept soundly through the Apollo morning trumpet call, breakfast, and the vast majority of the morning. My sleep was blissfully dreamless and deep until a faint repetitive noise caught the attention of my comatose mind.

"Nico, Nico, Nico, Nico, Nico, Nico, Nico, Nico, Nico, Nico, Nico, NICO!" It was my name repeating over and over again, like some demented iPod stuck on replay. And it was getting louder. The thing was: I was so deep asleep that my brain didn't even really register this—or at least what it meant. It just kinda noticed it was happening and passed it off as something not important. Big mistake.

Then came the pounding on my door. My body felt like lead, refusing to respond to the noise and frankly, I wasn't feeling too motivated to respond. I was comfy in my bed, thanks.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, the people at the door didn't seem to be waiting for me to answer the door because it burst open, sunlight splashing into the room, jolting me finally out of my stupor.

I blinked blearily at the three figures in my doorway, eyes not able to see their faces with the sun to their backs. I said something really intelligent like, "Whuh?" as I stared tiredly at them.

"Nico!" crowed a voice that I recognized as the one who had been chanting my name over and over again. My body tensed instinctively as my mind tried to figure out why. "AIR ASSASSINATION!" yelled the voice suddenly and I was unceremoniously tackled in my bed by a small, energetic, red-headed force.

That woke me up really quickly. One hand twitched to my side, reaching for a Stygian blade that wasn't there, while my other hand grabbed the neck of the figure. My heart pounded in my ears as the battle from last night flickered back into my mind, dripping the battle fury like ice water in my stomach. I froze, trying to control the creeping urge, blinking furiously, and finally realized what was going on. Andrew, my psychotic ginger shadow, had tackled me in my bed, apparently trying to get me in a headlock, not even phased by my left hand around his throat. The battle urge slipped away as I let out a hiss, thanking the gods that I didn't have my blade with me.

"Remind me to kill whoever got you Assassin's Creed," I growled as Andrew squirmed, still trying to wrestle me.

"Oh good, you're awake," said Andrew as if he just noticed, before hopping off my bed.

I watched him wearily; somehow feeling more tired as I watched the kid than before, and finally remembered the other two people in the room who I now recognized as Iggy and Nick.

"Don't tell me you encouraged him to do that?" I asked the remaining, somewhat more mature pair, glaring darkly at them.

"He wanted to do it," said Nick, shrugging slightly, but I didn't miss the mischievous Hermes twinkle in his eyes.

Iggy tried to smile apologetically, but it was ruined by the quivering of his lips. "We had to get you up, your shield's done," he said, trying to change the subject.

That woke me up better than Andrew's tackle had done. "You did?" I asked unnecessarily, straightening up in my bed, swinging my feet around to place them on the floor, leaning forward. I'm not going to lie; it felt a little bit like Christmas. Except I was getting a shield.

You know you're a demigod when getting a shield as a present is like Christmas. Isn't our life great? I'm not being sarcastic this time…mostly.

"Would you do the honors, Iggy?" said Nick, rather dramatically, offering a little bow to the demigod, a broad smile on his face. Clearly he was feeling a little like the proud parent for the child on Christmas day, or maybe I was just taking the analogy a little too far.

Iggy nodded, his whole body positively bouncing, whether from excitement or too much caffeine over the last few days, it was anyone's guess, and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small object that fit into the palm of his hand. I leaned forward despite myself, trying to catch a glimpse of what it was, and the other three demigods beamed excitedly at me as Iggy offered his hand to me. I stood up and walked toward him, placing my hand below his to let whatever he was holding drop into my hand.

It was honestly a little underwhelming. What I held in my hand was one of those fuzzy wrist sweat bands. It was a normal grey color and it felt soft to the touch, but it was otherwise boring to look at and completely useless as a shield. "Uh, guys, what's this?" I asked carefully, sensing that they were joking with me, but not sure what to believe at this point.

"There's other forms, push the symbol on the inside," said Andrew, he was positively quivering with excitement, like those tiny little Chihuahuas. I watched him for a second, worried that he was going to explode, before turning back to examine the wristband. I flipped it inside out, revealing an odd symbol on the inside. It reminded me of the "swoosh" symbol, but instead of being a solid checkmark, it looked like it was one tiny, somewhat deformed wing.

"Nike?" I guessed as I ran my finger over it.

I felt the trio nod, before Andrew added, "For Victory," and I somehow knew that a spell was embedded in it for just that. I withdrew my fingers for a second, nervous about what might happen to me, and looked up at the group. They all nodded again as one, still smiling encouragingly, and I pushed down on the symbol, not letting myself think about it, and the sweat wristband shifted in my hands, becoming something leathery and spike-y.

"Aw, c'mon guys, really?" I protested as the three started giggling like school girls. What I held in my hand kind of reminded me of a dog collar, but for your wrist. It was black leather for the main part of the bracelet and then, sticking out around the outside, were several silver spikes, each about an inch long.

"I am _not_ wearing this." Not only did it look stupid, but I had enough trouble with mortal cops thinking I was a punk; it would be a bad idea to wear this around reaffirming the image. Besides, I would probably poke my eye out if I had to scratch my face or wave at someone or something.

"There's one more setting," said Nick, sounding like he was trying to appease me, but the affect was ruined as he gasped for air from laughing so hard. "Just press the spike with the little sun on it."

I examined the spikes as Andrew noted, "For Protection." I felt the words thrum in the air again and knew that this must also be spelled. Finally I found the little carving of a sun on one of the spikes and pressed it. The bracelet shifted a final time, the weight decreasing in my hand and, thankfully, the spikes disappeared.

The last form of the bracelet was three piece of brown leather interweaved intricately with each other, creating a complicated pattern as they wrapped around the band, seeming to create an endless ring. "For Redemption," muttered Andrew, strangely solemn.

I looked up at him sharply. Did he know? Had he found out about the quest somehow? Was he really more perspective than I gave him credit for? My mind screeched to a halt and I quickly shook my head. No, no way. He was just lucky. Very lucky.

"This is great guys," I said with false brightness in my voice, "now I have a bracelet for every occasion, but, uh, I thought you were making me a _shield_."

Iggy just smirked in a satisfied way, before he said, "Tap the inside of the bracelet, anywhere you want on it."

I arched an eyebrow at him, not knowing what to expect at this point, and then tapped the inside of the bracelet. It transformed one final time, a metal disc the size of a coin bloomed from one side of the bracelet before spiraling outward, forming a checkered pattern as it grew. I stared at it in awe as the leather bracelet changed into a shield. When it finally stopped shifting, I held my new shield in my hands, not able to keep a stupid smile off my face.

My shield was legit. It was shaped kind of like a giant Frisbee. The metal was solid and sturdy, but also pretty light, I could lift it easily with one arm. The front of the shield followed a black and white checker pattern in rings around a circle in the middle of the shield. The center circle held a picture of the Helm of Darkness, done in yellow and black accents like the ancient Greeks used to do it on vases and stuff.

Now normally, I don't like to be remembered of my dad, especially, you know, recently, but the design on the shield just looked so cool. The symbol bore the nose and cheek guards of the traditional Greek helmet with an elaborate plume on top, but the helm looked so life-like that it almost seemed to pop off the shield. Looking at the helm, I felt safe. It reminded me of enclosed spaces, which actually don't freak me out, and the closeness of others who care about me. And, you know, I guess it did remind me of dad, but in a good way.

Around the outside rim of shield, Andrew had etched protective symbols and strengthening spells into the working of the shield, I could practically feel the magic vibrating in the metal. The brown leather bracelet had thickened and widened, almost becoming a wrist guard, attaching to the back of the shield. The leather was cushioned in all the right places so as absorb the shock from any powerful blows I was bound to get.

"Guys," I breathed, still staring at the shield, flipping it around to see it from every angle, "This is awesome!"

The guys muttered various words of thanks and I glanced up at them to see they were all looking at me somewhat nervously. Iggy's wrist circled in a beckoning motion, right eye twitching slightly. Nick's hands were twisting around each other and he was nervously biting his lip, the first self-conscious moves I had ever seen the kid make. Andrew was back to near explosion levels, bouncing on the balls of his heels. I stared at them blankly; did they have to go to the bathroom or something?

"Aw, c'mon, just put it on!" Andrew finally said, exasperated, bouncing even faster.

"Oh, right," I said dully. It was a combination of sleep deprivation and awe of the shield, I really did forget for a moment that I actually was supposed to wear it. At any rate, I slipped the shield onto my left arm and it was a perfect fit like custom made gloves, or a custom made shield, really.

"It's perfect," I pronounced after swinging it around experimentally a couple of times.

I felt a huge sigh exhale around the room as the three guys smiled goofily at each other and stopped fidgeting so much.

"I didn't know I was so hard to please," I said, wryly.

"Oh no, you're not," said Nick, big smile on his face (not that it really ever left), "but he is." He jabbed his thumb at Iggy who gently punched him for the comment.

"Well, thank you so much, anyway," I said chuckling, still enjoying the weight of the shield on my arm.

"Group hug, everyone!" yelled Andrew, jumping toward me with arms spread wide. Iggy and Nick were only too happy to oblige. I was not.

Soon, I found myself at the bottom of a Nico dog pile and laughing despite myself. Arms and legs were everywhere and my shield was making it very hard for me to get untangled. Nick seemed to think it was a great opportunity to tickle Andrew, which was unfortunate for Iggy and me, as he flailed around giggling like a four year old.

Soon we were all laughing for no reason in particular and, gods, was it a great release. I felt the tension just kinda roll off me as my abs started to burn from laughing so much.

"Push the inside of the wrist guard on either the loop, swoosh, or spike buttons to return it to the Mist form," panted Iggy when we all finally settled down enough to talk coherently again.

I did as he said, deciding to stick with the brown leather braided design, pushing the corresponding loop button. My shield reverted to a simple brown leather bracelet, metal spiraling back in until it somehow disappeared into the pattern.

We all clambered to our feet, exhausted but energized from laughing so hard.

"Really guys, thanks a lot," I finally said, big smile on my face.

All three guys nodded, returning the smile. "It was no problem," said Iggy.

"Yeah, it was fun!" agreed Andrew and rubbing his fingers against the locket on his necklace. Even though he had done a good job on my shield, this still made me nervous.

"Will we see you at Capture the Flag tonight?" asked Nick eagerly. I bet he was hoping to see the shield in action.

I on the other hand, wasn't so sure. Now that I had my shield, I could start for real on my quest. Well, I had to find my blade in the forest somewhere, but that shouldn't take too long, right? Not to mention Capture the Flag meant Chiron and that was something I did _not_ want to deal with.

The guys must have seen the look of hesitation on my face as I was suddenly under the gaze of three incredibly pitiful puppy dog faces. Oh gods, not this again.

"Uh, I'll think about it," I tried to lie, slightly concerned that all three did such pathetic looking faces.

"Ok!" said Andrew seemingly convinced as Iggy and Nick gave me equally penetrating looks, studying my face for signs that I was lying.

Suddenly there was a knock on my cabin door, which seemed kind of silly at the time because my door was wide open, but when we all turned to look to see who it was, all the bad things that happened at Camp Half-Blood since I came back returned to me in a whoosh. There in the doorway, highlighted by the late morning sun was Chiron.

He ducked into my cabin, his horse body making him a little too tall to fit under my low ceiling and gave an amused smile at us. I'm sure we looked kinda weird in retrospect. I know I was stuck in a position that was somewhere between deer-in-the-headlights and glaring two-year old. Andrew, Nick, and Iggy just looked straight up surprised and bashful, like kids that got caught with their hands stuck in a cookie jar. Chiron chuckled as he looked at us, a soft smile on his face. "Are you boys all ready for Capture the Flag, tonight?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," said Andrew brightly, oblivious as always. "We were just convincing Nico that he should stay for it.

"That's good to hear," said Chiron, sounding interested but then turning to me, eyes suddenly sharp. "Nicolas, Ignatius, Andrew; if I could talk to Nico privately for a moment?" he asked.

The trio of guys stood still for a moment, as if weighing what might happen to them if they decided not to move. Either that or it was just taking that long for Chiron's order-in-way-of-question to process.

"Uh, sure, Chiron," said Iggy, forcibly grabbing Nick and Andrew and dragging them past Chiron and out of the cabin. I always knew he was the smart one. The two other guys soon caught on and began to walk for themselves, protesting Iggy's use of force as they left.

Soon it was just Chiron and I left in the cabin and I didn't really want to move, even though that meant Chiron had to crouch awkwardly in the doorway. Chiron looked at my face and seemed to realize that asking me to walk with him some place where he could actually stand upright was not going to work. Was the look on my face immature and stubborn? Most likely. Did I care? Nope.

He let out a sigh, half sounding like a horse whickering before he returned his face to mine, eyes oddly apologetic. "Nico, I've come to make a request—"

"Look, sir, I'm not taking any companions, which I _think_ I made clear last time," I said, my voice sarcastic, bordering on rude. "I have to do this quest alone, and nothing you say will stop me."

"Nico," said Chiron shortly, a slight frown on his face. He was probably upset because I was impolite. Good. "I'm not intending to stop you from following this quest alone."

That did make me stop.

"You….you're not?" I asked after moment of stunned silence, a blush creeping up my cheeks, a feeling of shame twisting in my gut. I was starting to regret what I had said just seconds before.

"No," he said. Any anger that I might have expected from how impolite I was wasn't on his face. Instead a soft smile graced his lips and his eyes twinkled.

"Oh."

"Remember those dreams I mentioned?" Chiron asked and I nodded, recalling the conversation from before. "I had another one concerning you and your fate."

I tensed at this, readying myself for what was likely going to be bad news. I'd begun to notice that every time I heard someone talk about my fate the last couple weeks or so, it was always full of gloom, doom, and my inevitable death. It was all getting a little depressing.

Chiron gave me a sad smile as if he knew what I was thinking. "Yours is a dark fate, child. I saw many possibilities for your future, each one bleaker than the one before it." He grimaced and gave me a look like he wanted to compose my eulogy now.

My stomach lurched, and with an empty stomach, all this activity down there was kinda painful. I was glad he was being honest, but this wasn't doing much for my motivation.

"Thanks for the encouragement," I muttered. "So, you still want me to give this up?" I asked, voice louder.

"Oh, quite the contrary, I know you must follow this quest. That is also in your fate," said Chiron, surprising me. Looking into his eyes, a faint flame of hope seemed to flicker back as he looked at me.

"Sir?" I asked, his statement startling the question out of me.

"Fates can change," said Chiron simply, sounding like the teacher he was all of a sudden. "That's what makes predicting the future so difficult. A prophecy may seem to mean one thing, when in reality it means something completely different. Normally I prefer to err on the side of caution in the case of prophecies and fates, but in your case, Nico," and here he shook his head, "it was not my place to doubt. This is _your_ quest, lad. Just as the Great Prophecy was both Percy's and Luke's prophecy, the prophecy you received is yours and yours alone. If you do not succeed, no one can. "

I swallowed. So, no pressure. I have no idea what caused the complete 180 in Chiron, but that must have been one _heck_ of a dream. A small bubble of something pleasant settled in my stomach. Even though what Chiron had said about my fate seemed hopeless, he still believed in me. And that felt good. A cynical part of me tried to smush the feeling, but I told it to shut up, letting myself enjoy it while it lasted. "Uh, thanks, sir," I finally said when I realized that Chiron seemed to be waiting for me to respond.

Chiron smiled at me in a fatherly sort of way that made me feel uncomfortable but also kinda nice.

"You said you have a request for me?" I asked, trying to shake off the weird feeling.

"Ah yes," said Chiron, reaching over his back to produce his horse-man-bag and flipped open the flap sealing the bag. "I may not be able to send you with companions, but I can provide you with supplies to help you on your way."

"Oh, uh," I managed, pretty much speechless at the offer, and also slightly embarrassed. I honestly hadn't planned much beyond getting my shield. I hadn't even considered that I might need things beyond that.

"Winter _is_ coming," said Chiron, giving me a knowing look, "though it might not seem like it here."

The first thing Chiron pulled out was a thick black winter coat. When Chiron held it up, it looked like it might have gone down to my knees, about the same length as my trench coat. In fact, it looked pretty identical to my trench coat except it was puffy. I was going to look like a giant dark chocolate marshmallow. Awesome.

"Thanks…Chiron," I said slowly, taking the coat, because he seemed to be offering it to me, and giving it a closer examination, trying to keep my, er, appreciation off my face. As I held the coat, I was overwhelmed by the not-been-out-of-a-closet-for-awhile smell, a mixture of mothballs and mildew.

"It's an interwoven blend of wool and Nemean lion fur, it should keep you warm down to around -70º F," said Chiron nonchalantly, seeming to be restraining a smirk on his face as if he knew what I was thinking. "It's been in the attic for a few years. We don't have many winter quests."

I gaped at the centaur for a second and then looked at the coat with new respect. Not only would this keep me warm, but Nemean lion fur was pretty much the strongest material in the world. Chiron had just given me a bullet proof, cold proof, chocolate marshmallow. I liked this better. "Thank you very much, sir," I said again, and I actually meant it this time.

"Of course. Here's some extra nectar and ambrosia for you to use," he said, continuing on as if he hadn't noticed my sudden change of heart, passing me the baggies of ambrosia crackers and a Nalgene bottle of nectar. I took them, setting all of Chiron's gifts down on my bed. "And finally, there's this."

I looked at what he was offering me to see a small, worn looking scroll.

"What is it?" I asked hesitantly, taking the scroll. With my dyslexia, reading wasn't up there on my list of fun things to do and I wasn't entirely sure how a scroll would help me on a quest.

"It has a list of some possible places to start looking," said Chiron, his face clouding over slightly as if he remembered something sad.

This didn't make me feel much better but I opened the scroll anyway. The paper was old and sort of an off-yellow color, cracking under my fingers, but still strong. A title in thick black letters ran across the top and, after blinking at it for a second, I realized it was written in Ancient Greek. "Ghost Towns of the U.S," my mind supplies. Great, that was comforting. Names of ghost towns followed by states were listed underneath the title in small cramped writing, also in Greek.

_A place where the West once thrived_, surfaced from the depths of my mind as I stared at the list. This had to be it!

Something weird hummed in my stomach. For awhile, I didn't really have a plan, I was just kinda following what I thought would most likely work best. But now I actually had something to follow. I had a plan, and that grounding and confidence felt good.

"Thank you," I said, voice coming out slightly awed as my eyes scanned the names, eagerly looking for something that might stick out. "How did you get this?"

"A camper made it once," Chiron replied simply.

_Oh. He sent someone on this quest before_. My mind rattled to a halt and I looked up at Chiron's sad, old face. He was quiet as he looked at me, almost as if was memorizing my features. "Be safe."

"I-I'll try, sir," I said, my voice sounding small even to me. My stomach had dropped a few feet and was dancing somewhere around my toes. The hands that held the scroll of Ghost Towns shook but I didn't let it fall.

That seemed to be what Chiron wanted to hear because he nodded, reaching out to give me a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "So you leave after Capture the Flag tonight?" he asked, back to business.

"Yes, sir," I said, still feeling kinda shell-shocked, and then wincing, realizing what I had said. Oh great, this was going to hurt.

After a couple meals and few hours of running through my backpack, checking all of my supplies for the quest, I felt a little better about sticking around to play Capture the Flag. A little. It's not that I didn't like the game; it's just that it didn't seem like the best time to be playing a game with this killer instinct thing. It also meant that I would have to go back into the forest after my confrontation with Eliseo, which I wasn't too excited about. With the night coming earlier and earlier, the trees already looked as they did at whatever-o'clock in the morning it was when I went to go see the son of Nemesis and I didn't want something similar to happen. Also, I didn't have my blade, which I conveniently remembered just as I was approaching the fire pit where the two teams were gathered. I had my new shield, of course, but I felt a little naked without my sword.

Andrew waved happily at me as I wandered over, a large grin on his face. "This is going to be awesome!" he crowed happily in my ear once I reached his side. I glanced around, picking out people I recognized as they rushed around to get ready.

It was quiet for a second, so I glanced over at the son of Hecate who was looking at me pointedly as if waiting for me to ask why.

I sighed. Fine, I'd obliged him. "Why," I said, voice dead-panned.

"Because we have formed Team AHHHH!" he said, yelling the last part in my face, cheeky grin spread across his lips.

Blinking at the smell of his breath, I wondered for the millionth time if he was actually sane. "Team 'ahhh'?" I asked dully.

"Yeah, Team Ares, Hecate, Hermes, Hephaestus, and Hades," he said, as if pleased with himself that he had figured this out. "The other team can only manage MAADDA, or AADDAM or DADAAM, which I mean, come on, none of those are as cool as AHHHH!"

He looked at me as if he wanted a cookie, but I found myself fresh out of doggie treats and instead stared blankly back at him. "When do you find the time to think about this?" I finally managed.

His face scrunched up as if he was taking the question seriously. "I don't know, I think—"

"Hey, do you two have everything you need?" asked a gruff voice. I turned to see one of the Ares kids scowling at me. I don't think he was angry, though, that might have just been the normal expression. He was a typical Ares kid, tall and buff, with his brown hair cropped short to his scalp and strange light blue eyes.

"Uh, no, actually," I said, thankful for the interruption. No, I did _not_ want insight into how Andrew thinks. "I need a sword," I added in way of explanation.

The guy nodded over to where the Hephaestus kids had dragged out some extra weapons, armor, and shields for campers to use, leaving the stuff on racks. Of course, it was once on racks, now it was all over the ground from people going through it. Sometimes we were like kids with a play chest of toys, throwing everything on the ground once we had gone through it.

Andrew followed me over the pile of disheveled weaponry for some reason, babbling as always. "That was Drew Mattinson," he informed me, "but everyone calls him Mattinson."

"Uh- huh," I said, not paying attention to him in the least, shifting aside a dented breastplate, looking for a sword that might work.

"He's kinda cool for an Ares kid, he likes to play pranks," continued Andrew, not noticing or not caring that I wasn't really listening.

"Uh-huh," I said again, spotting a sword amidst the clutter and grabbed it by the hilt, giving a couple practice swings. The balance was a tad off and the blade was a little dented, but it would work.

"He's leading our team, team AHHHH!" Andrew said, yelling in my face again because that's what he does. I resisted stabbing him in the larynx, because that's what I do.

"That's cool," I said, voice completely unenthused.

"Yep," Andrew continued on, "the other captain is Michael Hill from the Apollo cabin." He pointed over to a tall kid with blond, curly hair and light brown eyes. He looked kinda awkward in his armor, but his bow sat comfortably in his hands, and with the other kids from the Apollo cabin around him that I had met earlier that week, he definitely was a force to be reckoned with.

I made a noise that I heard Andrew before wandering back over to where our team was gathered, new sword in hand. Mattinson seemed to be giving some kind of pep talk with the year-rounders from Ares, Hermes, Hephaestus, Hecate and me clumped around him. Iggy and Nick caught my eyes; they were apparently on team AHHHH! as well, and both waved before returning their attention to what the son of Ares was saying.

"Apollo kids specialize in distance fighting, we know that," said Mattinson, shooting a look that might have been distaste over in the direction of the other team, "so we need to hit them hard and fast. Don't let them have the time to get a shot at you while you're far away. We need to keep an eye on the Athena kids, they might have a trick up their sleeve, but if we attack before they can mobilize, we'll be fine."

I nodded at the plan. It was kinda brutal but effective. And he did have our point. A lot of the strong fighters were on our team. Apollo kids were strong, don't get me wrong, but Mattinson was right, they did prefer range weapons. Athena kids could be a trouble, but their plans often took time to work out, so as long as we acted fast, they wouldn't be able to set anything in motion.

"Right," said Mattinson, looking over his team as if mentally placing them on a field of battle or a game of Capture the Flag, "Hecate kids are on border patrol, use whatever tricks you have to make sure no one crosses."

Andrew offered a jovial salute. "You got it," he added, speaking as the de facto leader of the cabin. Note to self: stay _far_ away from the borders.

"Hermes cabin, take the left flank," instructed Mattinson. Nick and the new camper Becca nodded. "Hephaestus cabin take the right flank." Iggy and his siblings nodded. "Ares cabin will take the middle. We'll move first to draw their fire; Hermes and Hephaestus will rush in when they're distracted." Here, Mattinson gave a fierce, wolf-like smile. "Have fun, everyone!"

The other campers let out a yell of agreement but I couldn't help frown, what was I supposed to do? I edged my way through the crowd, weaving my way to Mattinson's side. When I finally got there, he was talking to another one of the Ares kids who seemed to be upset that Mattinson was "letting the other cabins get the flag instead of Ares". Mattinson told the other kid to shut up before turning his attention to me.

"What?" he asked, kinda gruffly, watching the back of his retreating cabin mate.

I was not to be so easily intimidated. "You didn't give me a job to do," I said, scowling right back.

"Who are you again?" asked Mattinson, blinking at me as if he had never seen me before.

"I'm Nico," I replied shortly. No response. Mattinson just looked at me with one eyebrow raised, seeming to ask if he should be impressed. "You know, Nico di Angelo." Again, nothing. Man, this kid must sleep with his head under a rock. I sighed and rolled my eyes. "The son of Hades," I finally told him, not exactly excited about the name-dropping.

"Oh, right," he said, as if he was told every day by people that they were the children of Hades. "We don't have anyone on flag guard duty, so you can take that. We've got the west side of the river, so our flag will be on Zeus' Fist."

I blinked at the name for a second and then realized what "Zeus' Fist" was, the rocks where the Labyrinth once was. "Wouldn't it be better to put the flag somewhere else?" I protested. "I mean, _everyone_ goes there."

"We're trying to make this a quick game, remember?" said Mattinson, scowling at me now as if concerned that I hadn't paid attention to what he had said earlier.

"No, I mean, shouldn't we just be cautious?" I said. For some reason, something was telling me I really shouldn't go back there.

"No, we'll be just fine!" said Mattinson, confident/goofy smile on his face. This did nothing to reassure me. "Great," said Mattinson after a pause, thumping me once on the back before bustling away, probably off to shake hands with the other team's captain or to help other people get ready.

I swallowed a nervous laugh and headed into the forest, my feet taking me to the rocks on their own accord. I barely heard the other team cheering as Michael Hill ran through with the other team's flag, I was already pretty deep into the forest. I quickly sent up a prayer to whoever was listening, at that point, I was feeling so drained, I didn't even know what I would do if someone came screaming at me with a weapon.

I could just leave, I thought dully as I arrived at the shadow enshrouded meadow with the pile of rocks in the middle. The flag fluttered at the highest point of the rocks as I trudged toward them. I _couldn't_ just leave, though. I had promised Chiron that I would stay, and, with the way that this quest was likely going to go, I probably wouldn't see him again.

Not to mention there was a goddess outside of camp just waiting to kill me.

Yeah, staying here was the best option, I decided as I mounted the rocks, making sure to leave a five foot distance between myself and the flag. I heard a faint cheer in the distance accompanied by the sound of a conch shell/horn and I decided the game had finally started, regripping my sword and springing my shield to life with on the inside of the braided band.

And it was quiet. I heard faint yelling in the distance and once I think I saw Michael Hill being chased across the edges of the perimeter of the meadow by a pair of shoes that were kicking him in the butt as he ran, but other than that, I didn't see anyone. And the game went on, the night getting later and the creatures in the forest starting to make noises as they moved around. The noise of the game was faint in the distance and I started to think that maybe nothing would happen; I was just nervous for nothing. Then Eliseo came out of the gloom of the woods.

Never. Doubting. My. Instincts. Again.

I tensed, not exactly sure what to expect. I didn't think he would attack me. Sort of. Anyway, it was better to be safe than sorry.

"Don't worry, I'm not here to get your flag," he said, looking up at me as he approached, playing absentmindedly with something in his hand as he regarded me with his hazel eyes.

I continued to stare down at him, his words doing nothing to calm me down as I saw what he was playing with. My Stygian blade.

"What are you doing?" I hissed, frozen with worry, not sure if I could do anything if he accidentally stabbed himself.

"Returning this to its rightful owner," he responded, voice still calm as he joined me up on the rocks, flipping the blade around to offer it to me by the hilt. My fingers gripping my borrowed sword loosened, letting the blade clang to the ground without me realizing I had done it.

I stared at my Stygian sword, eyeing it warily as it seemed to drink in the shadows around it, tugging at Eliseo's essence, though he didn't seem to notice. What would happen if I took the blade? Would that urge come back? Licking my lips, I glanced back up at Eliseo to see his face now seemed almost curious.

Heaving a sigh, I took the knife back without thinking any more about it, the sinking suspicion in my gut that this was some kind of secret test to prove something that Eliseo had made up. It was all very ambiguous and kinda stupid, but those thoughts were driven from my mind as the cool feeling of the Stygian ice registered against my skin. And I realized how much I had missed the sword in my hand. The urge remained quiet as I put my sword back in its sheath and then gazed up at the night's sky, remembering just how drained I was and sitting down on Zeus' Fist in a sudden move.

"The game's over, isn't it?" I asked, admiring the stars, feeling strangely calm in spite of everything.

"Yes, it's been over for a quarter of an hour or so," said Eliseo, joining me in examining the sky, settling next to me.

"Nice of them to tell me," I muttered, not really caring in particular.

"I suspect everyone was too busy celebrating," said Eliseo, a smile creeping across his face, "the child of Ares' plan went better than expected."

I snorted and then looked at him suspiciously. "You didn't help anything along did you?" I asked, slightly accusing him, but then again, I really didn't care.

"I do not participate in Capture the Flag," said Eliseo, slight scowl crossing his face before it smoothed away. "I would be more of an asset to the opposing team than my own."

"Why?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"When people have too much good luck, I bring them down a few pegs," he said after a long pause. I stared at him, half-believing I heard a slight sadness in his voice. Was he no longer proud of his mother's work? He sighed and shook his head. "If my team started to win, I would be compelled to help the other team."

"But," I said slowly, "maybe it doesn't have to be that way."

Eliseo was silent, not meeting my eyes as he stared up at the sky. "Maybe," he said finally and there might have been a note of hope in his normally calm voice. But don't tell him that, it'll ruin his image.

I shivered slightly, the air was chilly, and without the adrenaline of waiting for something to happen, I was starting to get cold.

"What are you going to do now?" he asked finally, and I had hunch it was the question he had wanted to ask since he joined me on the rocks that night.

"I'm going to go face your mom," I replied without a thought.

"You are?" he asked, turning to peer at me, surprised.

_I am?_ I asked myself, stunned even by what I had said, but I realized that, yeah, it was true. I didn't want to run anymore. I was tired of people telling me that I couldn't do this quest. I was tired of being afraid of this curse and what it did to me. I was just tired of being afraid. And the thing is: my emotions were so drained at this point, that I couldn't even manage to be afraid anymore. I didn't feel particularly brave or anything, I just didn't want to run from Nemesis.

"Yeah, I am," I finally said, standing up firmly.

Eliseo stood up and offered his hand to me, which I took. "Good luck on your quest, Nico," he said, a rebellious light dancing his eyes.

I arched my eyebrow at the comment, but didn't say anything, realizing just as he did that wishing good luck was an act against his mother in itself. "See you around," I said instead, giving his hand a firm shake.

"See you," he responded.

I broke the handhold before jumping off of the rock and into the shadows, emerging by the Hades cabin to quickly grab my things before stepping into the shadows to head West and meet Nemesis.

* * *

A/N: Whew, so Nico's finally leaving Camp Half-Blood. I would like to thank again everyone who submitted a character, they were all so much fun to play around with.

Some important things have come about in the world of Percy Jackson which influence my story, so I figured I might as well mention it here. First of all, the Son of Neptune came out! I loved the part when they spoiler and also when they spoiler. That one part where spoiler was absolutely hilarious! So anyway, in light of this book, I think I can officially say that my story is AU, happening in a world where the Prophecy of Seven is going to be fulfilled by some future generation way down the line. So, I guess, in a way, this is kind of like my view on how Nico would have grown up if certain events didn't happen in the Heroes of Olympus series. If you have any questions about this, feel free to message me!

Please leave a review, I cherish every one of them!


	16. Iron

A/N: Here we go! An update (sort of) in time for the holidays! Longer note with stuff in it at the bottom. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Not mine!

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen:** Iron

The first town on the list was Diablo Canyon, Arizona, which seemed rather ominous, but I decided that I might as well head over there. I knew what I was heading toward anyway so it didn't really matter where I ended up. Gods had a knack of finding you when they wanted to talk to you. Or duel you to the death. It's amazing how many times that manages to overlap. For me, at least.

Anyway, it took a couple times for me get to the right place. That's one of the difficult things about shadow traveling; if I've never been there before, I kind of just have to guess. I was lucky enough that I stayed in the country for all of my false stops and I finally found my way to Diablo Canyon. You'd think it would be a little difficult to tell if you had arrived in the right place when you had arrived in a ghost town, but the conveniently placed rickety sign on the abandoned trading post was indication enough of where I was.

This was a pretty nice place, if you didn't mind being in the middle of nowhere in an abandoned ghost town. Fortunately, I didn't mind. It was late in the evening and mid-fall, my Nemean lion coat kept me warm, but I could feel the slight bite of the wind on my cheeks as it rushed across the unbroken plain, whistling into the canyon off to my left before emerging again to continue on across the expanse. I can see well in the dark and I could just make out mountains in the distance, but the area immediately to my right was flat for miles. A bridge spanned the nearby canyon, tracks over the structure still fresh. This ghost town at least saw some type of action whenever the next freight train trundled through. The night sky above me reminded me of the roof of the Underworld as it arched overhead—there was absolutely no light pollution and hundreds, no, thousands of stars twinkled in the sky. It was a sight I'm going to savor if I survived whatever horrible plans Nemesis had for me.

The ghosts of the city were already muttering sleepily, noticing my presence, and I didn't want to stick around to possibly draw anymore ghostly attention. "Come on, Nemesis, where are you?" I found myself muttering—not pausing to ask myself why I wanted the person who wanted to kill me to find me—eyes wide to drink in the darkness. Fortunately, or unfortunately, I didn't have to wait long.

A sudden whooshing sound and then the rusty groan of metal on metal alerted me to Nemesis' arrival. Looking back at the train tracks I saw a figure on the far side of the bridge pumping one of those hand powered pump carts that you always see in those old Western movies. Rolling my eyes, I really shouldn't be surprised by things like this anymore; I hefted my backpack up on my shoulder and walked toward the train tracks where the figure had stopped pumping and stood staring at me, watching my approach. Mounting the train tracks, walking onto the bridge that spanned the canyon, I resisted the urge to hum a corny, Western showdown tune as I walked; something told me Nemesis wouldn't get the joke.

Finally I reached about 10 feet away from the goddess on her Evil Pump Cart of Doom and waited. I may have been ready to face Nemesis, but that didn't mean I was willingly going to go within sword's length of her. The goddess sat on the pump cart, her feet dangling over the edge as she looked at me. It was weird, but I could see everything clearly, as in more than normal see-well-in-the-dark clearly. I don't remember if I've ever had this skill before, but it kinda felt like what happened when I shadow-saw that creepy Brendan monster back with Percy which felt like years ago. I could make out the look of pure loathing on Nemesis' face. I could read the logos on her jeans and shoes; Levi's and Nike's respectively, by the way. She must like being able to chase after those demigods who were foolish enough to try and run from her while staying comfortable. I chuckled despite myself as a thought struck me.

"What is so funny?" she said, voice freezing my insides, and sending a flood of the familiar deadly instinct into my gut.

I took a breath to steady myself. _I can't lose myself; I would only wind up doing something really stupid, like dying._ "Nothing, sorry, just a random thought," I said, pleased to hear that my voice sounded calm.

"What is it, pray tell," she demanded, sliding down off her cart, wandering over to me, and I couldn't help feeling like I was looking at a panther that wanted to eat my face or at least stab me until I bled. A lot.

"I saw your shoes," I said honestly. "People sometimes confused you with Nike, so I thought it was a little funny."

The look on her face told me she was about as amused as I thought she was going to be.

"Yeah…," I said, scanning around the bridge over the canyon, trying to think of a way to end this peacefully. "So, can I go now?"

"Hardly," she said, a cruel smile flashing across her face before she was on me. I had just enough time to draw my blade before her wicked long sword slammed into mine. I hadn't even had time to take off my backpack or activate my shield so I stumbled under her attack, off balance, still managing to stop her sword from sliding down my blade toward my face and heaving it away.

The killer urge was already throbbing in my gut, creeping up and down my body and making me numb. I didn't have the slightest idea what it would lead me to do to a god, aka someone who couldn't die, but I didn't really want to find out.

"You are insolent! Haughty! Disrespectful of the gods!" she hissed at me, voice strangely calm even as she punctuated each statement with another slam on my sword, which I deflected to either side of my body, trying not to tire myself out. Even though I wasn't taking all of the force from the attacks, my arm was already starting to go numb.

_I need to get my shield up_, I thought desperately, biting my tongue to try and keep the urge back, breath coming out in a gasp as a particularly heavy strike landed on my sword which I was forced to take full on.

_Time to play offense,_ whispered a cold voice in my mind and I responded without even realizing what I was doing, killer instinct completely swamping me. I leapt into an attack, letting my sword fall down to the side so Nemesis stumbled to my right, activating my shield to life in the same motion. It spiraled itself to its full size, protecting my left side as I went for an attack at the back of Nemesis' head.

Faster than I could register, she whirled around, catching my blade as she rested on one knee. Her face was as cold and hard as ever as she looked up at me before she whirled into another attack. This time her blow came on my shield and it held beautifully. I moved into a counter attack, feinting high before sweeping my blade low. She rolled aside and then cut low, returning the favor to hack at my legs.

I jumped her attack, bringing my sword down on her head as I moved. She dove back and I landed heavily, stumbling as my foot caught in the rails of the train track we were fighting on. She brought her sword up again, gripping it with two hands now for more power. "For your impudence against the gods, you will be punished," she pronounced and I felt the weight of her words. This wasn't just something that was said during a duel to psyche your opponent out; it was a promise. She swung again, moving her blade fast for someone wielding it two-handed.

I responded just as fast, taking the attack on my shield again and counterattacking with my own blade. The drive was positively singing through my veins. It wanted blood, it needed blood. I felt cold, colder than I had even felt in my life, like I was an ice sculpture that had decided to get up and walk. And, for the first time in a long while, my mind was absolutely calm, no snarky comments floating about, no ghosts trying to get my attention. I felt like I was holding my breath and I couldn't remember how to take inhale again. (Because, let's be honest, snark=air for me.)

I moved mechanically, responding to Nemesis' attacks and countering in like manner. A distant part of my mind noted how Nemesis seemed to be aiming for my sword and shield, as if trying to tire my arms out so that perhaps once they were too tired to function properly, she could hack me to pieces more easily. Deftly switching my attack strategy, I aimed for her face, her armpits, and thighs, hoping to score a hit before I was too exhausted, wanting my blade to drink in her essence. Nemesis shifted to intercept my attacks, face emotionless as she continued to whail on my arms. And yet my arms weren't tired despite the constant barrage. They were numb, senselessly numb. And my mind was still and cold.

A sudden sharpness seared through the wrist of my sword arm and I blinked, looking down at the wound with a detached amazement for a couple seconds before the pain rushed to my brain, searing my nerves with the fire of the cut. Nemesis had managed to get a cut in under my guard.

It wasn't even that I wasn't paying attention during the fight—when I was in that frozen state, I was a fighting machine, she really did just out-match me. The pain, though, managed to awake me from my urge-driven battle fury and I stumbled back, reveling in the use of my mind and feeling my fingers and toes throbbing with warmth. Even the blood sopping the sleeve of my coat sticky and wet felt good as I relished in the movement of my body as my own. But accompanying this feeling of pain also came a feeling of terror.

The killer urge was so much stronger, infinitely stronger. I was slowly loosing myself. Was it really a little over a night ago that I had fought against Eliseo? It was only a voice then. How could it be so much stronger now? I felt the need to make a snarky comment, not only because I could, but also to fight off the growing fear that was threatening to make me start giggling in absolute, stupefying fear. Before I could say anything, though, Nemesis' blade moved again and I jerked to intercept it, catching the blade clumsier than I had earlier in the fight, but I really wasn't going for elegance at this point.

"No, please," I muttered, my wrist twitching as I tried to hold my sword steady as Nemesis pressed harder on me.

"Begging now, son of Hades? You are weak," she taunted, not letting up, even adding in an extra shove to show she meant it.

"That's not what I meant," I bit back, gathering my own energy to push her back. She stumbled away, seemingly surprised by my reaction. I fought the instinct to run after her, to take the strike while I could.

She looked at me through the gloom of the night, dark eyes piercing me as if she knew what I was fighting within me. "I don't want to keep fighting, I don't want to lose myself to this," I said, leaving my shield on guard, but waiting.

Nemesis almost seemed the shrug, as if this matter little to her one way or the other. She probably figured I was as good as dead, anyway, so it didn't matter too much whether I wanted to fight or not. She lunged in for another attack.

Letting out a frustrated grunt, I intercepted her blow on my shield, trying to give my injured wrist a rest. "Nemesis! I have to do this!" I yelled at her as she pulled back for another blow, which I again managed to catch on my shield. I pushed it away, adding an extra slam with my shield that I had learned at Camp Half-Blood, trying not to let my frustration bubble over into another killer, battle rage. "This imbalance against the children of Hades has gone on for far too long!"

Her eyes were as unreadable as ever as she hit me again with her sword. This time I trapped her with the rim of my shield and the flat of my blade, pinning her weapon and keeping her close so she would listen. There had to be some way I could get to her. "Look, you know everything there is to know about balances. You know I'm right!"

"Your hubris betrays you, you do not know the stakes for which you seek," she hissed in my face trying to pull her sword out from where I had pinned it.

I looked at her hard for a second, watching her struggle with her sword before she met my eyes. Thoughts and horrors flashed through my imagination as I waited for her to look at me. I could die from taking this quest. But in a way, that wouldn't be the worst possible fate. A voice shouting angrily in German over the crackling noise of an old radio filtered through my head. A dim memory of another son of Hades from before I spent my extended vacation at the Lotus Hotel and Casino. If I didn't stop this curse, I would become that. I would kill innocent people, insisting that they deserved that death and relishing in that control over their existence. I would kill those I cared about because, if I became that way, only their deaths would really matter. I would die alone, friendless and unloved; not even realizing what I had done.

Nemesis' dark eyes finally met mine and I said three words. "Yes, I do."

She stood there, a look of near disbelief on her face, panting from the fight, almost as if she didn't quite understand what I had said. "I fear what could happen if I don't succeed at this quest," I said, shivering slightly now, though I wasn't sure why. "But the choice of not even trying, I fear more."

"You do not understand fate," Nemesis said simply, a note of dismissal in her voice, as she glared at me.

"I think I'm beginning to," I answered. My brain felt kinda fried and my wrist was still throbbing dully, but I knew that what I said to Nemesis was true.

The night was silent around us as we both stood panting, our weapons locked together. The night air as chill as ever, licking the sweat off of our bodies, steam rising off as we cooled from the fight.

A thought suddenly occurred to me and I deactivated my shield, disengaging our weapons. "But now I know what I _don't_ fear," I said, slinging my backpack off my back as I talked and beginning to rummage around in it. Nemesis stumbled slightly at the suddenness of what I had done and stared down at me as I searched through my backpack, seemingly unable to believe that I had done something so stupid.

"Really, what's that?" asked Nemesis dully, almost as if she was trying to humor me, either that or trying to figure out how to best attack me next. The killer instinct in my mind hissed quietly for blood, to get back into the fight as I searched through my bag, but I focused on the blood streaming from my wrist and the voice receded.

My fingers closed around what I was looking for and I pulled out a slightly smushed blossom. "You."

A spasm of rage flashed across Nemesis' icy face, as if she thought I was insulting her in some way, but then she looked at what I was holding. "Is that an 'Everlasting Flower?'" asked Nemesis, staring at me like I had suddenly grown an extra head. Nemesis was right, of course, about the flower, not about the head thing. Even though some of the flowers themselves were a bit smushed, the bright yellow color of the flowers was a cheerful as the day that Aurora Bloom gave it to me back on the beach at Camp Half-Blood. The flowers even seemed to glow slightly, letting off a faint light in the gloom of the night.

"It's for you," I said after a pause as she stared at the flower in my hand. "An offering," I pronounced.

"An- an offering?" she stuttered in a most un-Nemesis-like way.

I nodded. I didn't realize how much this would affect her, but it seemed to have blown her godly mind. Nemesis stared completely thunderstruck by my offering, her mouth in a thin line as she just looked at it. I mean, Nemesis was the goddess of balance; I figured that by going on this quest, I was going to be messing around with all kinds of balances. But then again, I wasn't offering the flowers out of fear. It just felt right.

She reached out a quivering hand, still keeping a hold on her sword as if not sure if she trusted me, and grabbed the flower from my hand. And yet she was delicate about it; cradling the sprig in her palm like a small newborn child. Staring at it with slight wonder on her face, she suddenly jerked her head up and looked at me, her eyes hard again. "You don't fear me?" she asked coldly.

"No, I don't," I said, feeling the truth of those words echo around my head and the stillness of Diablo Canyon.

Her eyes met mine for what felt like an eternity before she shook her head, a smile of disbelief flashing across her lips even as she put her sword back in its sheath. "Even in the old days, it was always fear...," I heard her mutter to herself before returning to look at me again. She looked at me for a long time as if re-weighing the situation, which she probably was. The night was silent around us, and I mean completely silent, as if everything was holding its breath to hear what she would say. Finally, she gave the smallest hint of a nod and pronounced, "Nico di Angelo, son of Hades, Ghost King, you have my permission to complete this quest."

"Thank you, Lady Nemesis," I said formally, realizing that this was a big moment and that I probably should be a little more excited about it, but also realizing that if I tried to act excited, I would probably topple over from exhaustion.

She nodded to me again, cradling the sprig of flowers against her chest as she began to glow. My tired eyes closed just before she went god-supernova and slowly opened again after the glow from Nemesis' exit had faded. The pump cart she had arrived in what felt like long ago was gone and the wind returned to its howling across the plain. Nothing was left from our battle except the dull throbbing in my wrist. I tottered over to the abandoned trading post, did some quick first aid on my wrist (aka pouring nectar over it and trying not to scream like a little girl as it burned away the beginnings of infection and began to reseal the wound), and falling into a dreamless sleep inside the old building.

* * *

I awoke what felt like minutes later to the sound of a horrible shrieking. I sat up slowly, clutching my improvised Nemean lion coat/blanket as I stared coldly at what was making the noise, feeling rather well rested despite the circumstances. Blinking out through the slightly dusty windows, I saw a freight train that seemed to stretch on for miles in both directions, train cars straining and squealing over the tracks as they rolled along. The discordant noise of the seemingly hundreds of carriages crossing over the bridge over Diablo Canyon accompanied me as I quickly packed my things and munched on a granola bar. My wrist had all but healed and I didn't think there was much more for me to do in Diablo Canyon.

Not that I was actually sure what I was supposed to be doing in these ghost towns. I mean, I knew that I was looking for "the one who was made" at the place where many people had "suffered and died". Well, the "suffered and died" part wasn't too bad. When a lot of people died at once, they left a mark on the landscape. Not something that you can actually see. Well, I'm hoping that _you_ wouldn't be able to see it. _I_ can't even see it.

If you can see it, you've got problems.

Anyway, I can _sense_ it. All those emotions from all those people dying at one time; fear, anger, sadness, pain, seem to mix together in the air and I can feel it. The more recent, the more potent, but I can still sense even really old tragedies. Let's put it this way, it made going to the site of the Battle of Troy really interesting.

The point that I'm getting to was that I didn't really feel any of the traditional marks of suffering and death in Diablo Canyon. Sure, the quiet sadness of the empty town hung in the air, but there wasn't any indication of anything too traumatic happening there. So, even though I didn't have a clue who "the one who was made" might be, there wasn't enough "suffering and death" here for Diablo Canyon to be the right place.

Walking out onto the rickety porch of the ancient general store, my backpack slung over one shoulder, my Nemean lion coat in place; I looked down the list for the next ghost town, Fairbank, Arizona. I glanced up in time to see the conductor driving the rear engine staring at me open-mouthed before I stepped into the shadows to travel to the new ghost town.

I would just happen to land in the nesting grounds for Stymphalian birds. I had bumbled around the continental United States for a couple stops before I arrived in Fairbank, Arizona. I didn't have any time to really get a look around where I was, so I might not have even been in Fairbank, when something gave me a pinch on the back of my leg.

This was a _hard_ pinch, mind you, not the kind of pinch that you give your sibling to mess with them, the kind of pinch that may or may not have removed skin. I was pretty sure it did in this case. Reacting on instinct, I sprung my shield to life, pulling my Stygian blade out in the same move and turned to attack what had pinched me, the faint thought that it might have been a snake flashing through my mind.

Adrenaline surged through me and with that the hauntingly familiar coldness of the killer instinct as I struck out, realizing with a stunned, detached horror that I was completely surrounded. My blade stopped just inches above the head of the baby Stymphalian bird that had taken a chunk out of my leg. I hardly dared to breathe as there was a moment of complete silence as the entire flock of Stymphalian birds stared at me, looking like crows with strangely beady eyes and bronze beaks. My ADHD was on over-drive, noting distantly how my foot was crushing one of the nests that lay on the ground. I noticed a human skeleton amongst the remains of last night's dinner and swallowed hard, this was not good. Maybe if I just moved really slowly, nothing bad would happen. Right.

Slowly pulling back my blade from almost beheading the baby bird that had taken a chunk out of my leg, I let out a slow breath, trying to keep my nerves calm. The little chick regarded me with its beady eyes before letting out one small peep. This chirp must have been some type of signal, like "attack the freak with the sword" because suddenly, I found myself at the center of an evil bird tornado.

I didn't even have time to say something sarcastic before they were on me, doing my best to protect myself with my shield and hack through the birds flying around me, my sword drinking in the essence of every bird it hit. But, no matter how many I struck down, more swooped in to fill its place, finding ways to get around my shield and my coat to nip at my skin. The sound of their wings filled my ears, deafening, preventing me from hearing anything else. I think even if I shouted, I wouldn't have been able to hear myself. I may have I actually tried shouting, but I don't really remember, so I can't be sure.

My mind scrambled trying to think of a plan, slightly backing off on my attacks and moving more to a defensive strategy. _Cover_, I thought desperately,_ I need to figure out how to control which direction they can attack me from._ I winced, thought broken off by the sudden nipping at the base of my neck. I ducked and slashed upward in the same movement, disintegrating the bird that had bitten me.

A fierce roaring filled me belly, urging me to call reinforcements, to completely destroy the flock. Biting my tongue, I resisted the urge, fighting two battles at once—one battle that was flying around me, one battle that was flying inside me. I had to somehow keep both of these battles in my mind. If I lost the fight against the birds, I was pretty, much literally, buzzard food. If I lost focus on the battle against the urge, I would succumb and I didn't want to even think what it would take to pull me out again.

Fortunately, with ADHD, having two things going on at once isn't too hard—battle senses and all that, not that this was easy. It was like trying to carry on two conversations at once and knowing that there's a test over them after. But even thinking of analogies to try and describe what was going on was distracting as I ducked, spun, and jabbed at the birds, mentally stomping down at the Ghost King drive.

_Cover_, I reminded myself and my mind scrambled to the mission, taking what felt like years, but was probably more like seconds, before returning with something that might be helpful. A faint image of a building filtered to the surface of my mind, a glimpse of a worn down structure beyond the Stymphalian nesting ground when I first arrived. But which direction was it in now? I had turned, ducked, and dodged so many times now I barely knew which way was up, let alone which way the building I had seen was.

Taking a guess, sending a brief prayer of help to anyone who was listening, I began to make my way in the direction I had chosen. The flock of birds still circled around me as thick as ever, but now they seemed slightly wary of me. Yeah, I guess watching a bunch of your buddies get vaporized will do that to you. They had kinda backed off a little bit; at least giving me enough space to move so I wasn't completely pinned down. Edging along, I was beginning to feel confident, if I could make it to a shelter, I had a much better chance of defending myself. Once I knew for sure what direction the crazy birds would come from, it would be easy as pie.

Catching myself, I noticed the coldness from the battle fury creeping out of my stomach and clamped down on those thoughts._ Focus, Nico_, I told myself as I moved slowly to what I hoped was shelter, _don't count your Stymphalian birds before they hatch_.

I should have known the birds weren't actually afraid of me. They were just preparing for a more unified assault. Unfortunately, I didn't realize this until about two seconds before it actually happened. All the birds seemed to arch toward me sharply, like bombers coming in for a pass, aiming directly for me. I think I yelled this time, but the sound of the flapping wings was still too loud for me to hear anything and I did my best to spin around, bashing and slashing as much as I could, but nonetheless, completely overwhelmed.

The vicious birds pulled and tugged at my skin, as if trying to rip it. I think I let out another yell at this point, trying to drown the panicked fear that the birds were going to eat me alive. Breaking free, the instinct bounded out of my stomach, taking control of my right arm, my sword arm and pushing back. Shadows rose to the call, encasing my sword, almost looking like some bizarre fabric, and hacking a deadly slash through bird tornado.

Yelling again, I bashed my shield arm against my sword arm, jolting the blade from my grip, rattling the bone. I brought my right arm close to my body, not moving to pick up my sword, hiding behind my shield as best as I could.

_You want to die here, Ghost King?_

"Yes, I'd rather die here than fall to you," I snarled back.

The urge tried to seize control of me again, but I instead crouched smaller behind my shield, feeling the cruel beaks pulling at every part of me that was exposed. _I don't want to die_, I told myself honestly, my own stubborn nature refusing to just lie down and give up. Resolutely stomping down on the urge, I turned my thoughts to shadow traveling away, anywhere but here, but the fierce barrage of the birds simply prevented me from gathering enough of my will to escape.

Suddenly, I'm not entirely sure when it started happening, but I really only noticed it then, the sound of the Stymphalian bird wings changed. It became less fierce, as if they were leaving, but this was so unbelievable to my mind that I immediately dismissed it. But the absence of the bird wings was gradually being filled by another noise, a noise that was some unholy cross between a dying cat and a screamo concert, and trust me; I've heard both of those things, just never together. I couldn't really understand what I was hearing, but just as soon as I realized that the sound of the birds was getting quieter and some other noise was getting louder, I realized I wasn't being attacked anymore.

Uncurling myself hesitantly from behind my shield, I peeked out to see the flock of Stymphalian birds was slowly scattering, as if being driven away. And then I realized the sound was coming from a man. He was a rather average looking man, height-wise, but he had a very impressive handle bar mustache and wore a duster that flapped dramatically around him. On his head, he wore a slightly beaten up cowboy hat and the belt at his waist held a gun holster on each hip. If I hadn't known any better, I would have thought he came straight out of a Western movie. And then I realized that the sound the man was making was supposed to be singing.

"She wears short skirts, I wear t-shirts. She's cheer captain and I'm on the bleachers, dreaming about the day when you wake up and find what you're looking for has been here the whole timeeeeee!~" he yelled/sang.

At that point, the only part of me that wasn't sluggishly bleeding started to bleed, my ears. I stood up from my position, trying to walk under the stupefying bad singing as the man continued.

"Can't you see that I'm the one who understand you? Been here all along, so why can't you seeeeee, that you belong with meeeee, you belong with me?" he crooned at the top of his voice.

"For the love of the gods," I said, raising my voice slightly as I walked over to him, fighting a headache that seemed to be encouraged by the singing, "Stop!"

To my great surprise, he did.

"Glad to see you're alright," he said, grinning at me, a Southern drawl thick in his voice. As I walked up to him, I noticed he was about my height. He seemed to notice this about the same time I did and frowned at me. "Now what were you doing mucking around in the Stymphalian nesting ground?"

"I didn't go there on purpose," I said, thankful that he had at least stopped singing, not quite realizing what I was saying, "I just kinda stepped out there."

"Stepped out?" repeated the man, blinking at me, then realization dawned on his face. "Oh, you must be the Hades kid."

I felt my stomach drop down to my toes and I only belatedly remembered that I had left my blade somewhere back over where I had been attacked. Normally people that knew who I was because of what I could do weren't very friendly. The least I knew was this man was not mortal.

"Who are you?" I asked, immediately on edge, trying to look intimidating with only a shield.

"Hey, hey, easy there, partner," said the man good-naturedly, wide smile back on his face. "I'm not about to kill you after just saving you!"

I blinked at him and then asked in disbelief, "The singing?"

"Yep!" the man positively crowed, bouncing on the balls of his feet, reminding me of a certain red head demigod. I shook the thought away in horror.

"And that helped how?" I asked slowly.

"Well, them Stymphalian birds hate loud rackets, so's I provided one," said the man.

I blinked again and then realization dawned on me. That's right, the story of Hercules ringing the bell. Another vague memory tugged at the back of my mind, I remembered Percy telling me a story of when Thalia's tree was sick and a flock of Stymphalian birds invaded Camp Half-Blood.

I wanted to kick myself for forgetting that stupid detail. I could have just sang to the birds to make them leave, and then I remembered how much I fail at singing. Yeah, I was better off using the old sword and shield method.

"Well, thank you," I said finally, because the man seemed to be waiting for me to say something.

"It was no problem!" he responded cheerfully, "It's part of my duty, see, to be something of a sheriff for the west." He was playing with something that was pinned to his shirt and I only then noticed the rather obnoxious star that was pinned to his chest. It looked like one of those plastic toy stars kids sometimes get in the costume kits for Halloween, but this one looked real enough.

"You're a sheriff for the whole West?" I asked, pulling myself away from staring at the shiny star to comprehend what he was saying.

"Not the whole West, no, that's a job for the gods. I'm just a man, well, mostly," said the man, tucking his thumbs into his belt and regarding me with one arched eyebrow. "Shouldn't you know all this already? You are the son of Hades, aren't you?"

"Yeah," I said slowly, trying to take in what he was saying, "I'm Nico di Angelo." Yeah, this guy was probably crazy. I should have expected that I was going to run into some hobos on this quest. But he did know about the gods, maybe he was just some old, crazy demigod? That wasn't very reassuring.

"It's a pleasure to meet you!" crowed the man, stepping forward to give me a bear hug, picking me off the ground and squeezing until the cuts that I had gotten from the bird attack began to bleed again.

"Ow! Hey, stop, please," I said, trying to be polite and take in air at the same time. And suddenly I was back on the ground and the man was a comfortable distance away. I stared at him hard, realizing something as he scuffed the toe of his boot against the ground.

"You're not alive, are you?" I asked, voice stern. The guy seemed nice enough, but if he was an escaped spirit from the Underworld, then he had to go back.

"Not technically, no," said the man, an absolutely irritating smile spreading across his face.

"I think you should go back to the Underworld," I said, trying to be nice about it, but I think I just sounded annoyed. Which I was.

And he didn't leave. The man just beamed at me and I scowled back, starting to move past annoyed and into frustrated. Why didn't he leave? Maybe I needed to be more direct.

"Go on, go back to the Underworld," I said, trying to put a little force behind my voice.

"I can't," interrupted the man, which was something of a shame because I was about to do some really impressive Ghost King pointing and demanding he return to the Underworld. It would have been cool. Trust me.

As it was, I let out a long, slow sigh as I blinked at the man, stunned. "Come again," I finally said, getting over my surprise.

"I can't go to the Underworld," said the man. "It's what I was trying to tell you earlier; this is my job. I watch over the west. See, I did such a good job of it in life, the gods let me keep doing it after I kicked the bucket about, oh, 150 years ago."

I just kept staring at the man. He didn't look a day over 120, at least.

I know, I know, I should be really used to old/dead people, but it's still weird seeing that old of people outside the Underworld. But then again, normally spirits aren't allowed to just wander around, so I think I was completely justified. Not to mention I had just been ravaged, mostly, by birds, which by the way, I was still bleeding from, thanks for remembering-so I think I was entitled to being right, maybe just this once.

"Who are you?" I finally managed to ask.

"I'm Pecos Bill, son of Zephyr, sheriff of the west," said the man, who I now knew as Pecos Bill, offering a hand for me to shake.

I took his hand hesitantly and then found that my whole arm was shaking, and with it, the rest of my body. "I-it's ni-ice to-o me-et yo-u," I said, my voice vibrating with the rest of my before Pecos let go of my arm. I felt like I was still vibrating, but that's beside the point.

"So, what are you doing 'round these here parts," said Pecos, looking me over with both of his fists resting comfortably on his hips.

"You know, just traveling around, seeing the country," I said, trying to be vague. I didn't really feel like telling anyone more about my quest.

"Great, I'll show you around," he said, beaming.

"You don't need to do that," I tried to say, "besides I need to get something on these cuts to clean them off and make them stop bleeding."

"I can help you with that!" said Pecos, still eager.

Ignoring my protests, he steered me over to one of the rundown buildings, heading to the scant shelter it offered. I mean, the roof had fallen in as well as one of the walls, so I guess it was more the idea of the thing. He pulled out some nectar and ambrosia from somewhere, why a ghost would have nectar and ambrosia—I have no idea, and he began to clean my injuries. There was no stopping him, and trust me, I tried. I just hoped that satisfying this crazy need to help me would make it easier for me to slip away.

"Thanks," I said when he finished.

"No problem, partner," he said good-naturedly. "So, you heading out now?"

I glared at him. "Oh, no, you are _not_ coming with me."

"Please?" he begged, eyes getting big and face getting pouty.

"No," I insisted.

There was a pause as we looked at each other and then I sighed. "You're just going to follow me, aren't you?"

"Yep," he said joyfully, a mischievous look on his face underneath his mustache.

"Fine," I said, defeated, feeling tired. How could so much have happened in one day? And so early in the morning? (I think it was around noon at this point, but I'm ignoring that.)

"Yes! Oh, this is going to be great! The most fun that I've had in 50 years!" cheered Pecos, jumping to click his heels as he punched the sky.

"Hurray," I said, trying to show enthusiasm, but you know, not really trying. "Okay, but you have to not be annoying."

"No problem, partner, you'll hardly know I'm here."

This was going to be a _long_ quest, remembering to pick up my sword from where it had fallen before moving on to the next ghost town.

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A/N: Woo! We've started the quest, but poor Nico, he can't get very far without getting injured, huh? Don't worry, he heals fast. I forgot to say on the last chapter, but a super big thanks to Relina-chan and Himom for letting me use your characters! Also, I broke 100 reviews *joy tear*! Thank you to everyone who has left a review! Truly, I cherish each and everyone one of them!

Now some shameless self-promotion! I recently made an account for Nico on Twitter. Just search for user The_GhostKing-he should be the third on the list with the same picture as my profile picture here on fanfic. Twitter Nico isn't really my story Nico and he's not really book-verse Nico (because, let's be honest, book-verse Nico probably doesn't have much to tweet about where he is now), but it's a chance for Nico to get some exercise. After living in my head for almost three years now, the snark is starting to builid-up, so feel free to ask Nico questions or just follow him to get your daily dose of Nico snark! Again, if you're interested, look for the user The_GhostKing.

Please leave a review!


	17. Scooby Doo, Where are You?

Disclaimer: Once again and as always, not mine!

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**Chapter Seventeen:** Scooby Doo, Where are You?

"So, where are we off to now?" asked Pecos cheerily, grin on his face underneath his bushy mustache.

I shot a quick look at him, trying to decide if he was trying to annoy me on purpose or if he was just annoying because that's how he is. I decided it was the second option and just rolled my eyes, glancing down at the list of ghost towns clutched in my hand. Goldfield and Goldroad had both been duds and the only exciting thing in Jerome was that it once focused on copper instead of, well, gold. I sighed; this search was already starting to wear on my nerves. Or maybe that was just my hyperactive tour guide.

Wherever we went, Pecos seemed to have a crazy story about the place. I can't count the number of times he told me he wrestled with a tornado to save one of the towns, or captured some no-good varmints up to no good (his words, not mine).

Not that this helped the towns in the long run, which I often reminded Pecos when he launched into another story, all of the towns were now abandoned, wearing away in the Arizona sun. The look on Pecos's face when I said this always made me feel a little guilty—a sad lonely face, missing the friends he once had. But it didn't last long because Pecos would quickly brighten again, telling me the story anyway. I just braced myself and took it, knowing there wasn't much I could say that would make him stop. Because I've tried pretty much everything.

And in a weird way, I did enjoy listening to him tell his stories. They were interesting, not that I would ever tell Pecos that. And more importantly, they would help fill the complete quietness of the ghost towns. Sometimes the only sound was the wind blowing through the deserted streets, and even though I'm something of a loner, there's a lot to be said when it's that quiet all the time. If I didn't have Pecos with me, I probably would have started talking to myself just to hear someone else talk. Not that I don't do that already.

But not much.

Anyway, Pecos Bill was hovering over my shoulder as I squinted at the list, running a pencil through the Greek name of Jerome and looking at the next name on the list. "Ruby, Arizona," I translated easily.

"Oh, Ruby!" crowed Pecos, rocking back on his heels, his thumbs tucked into his belt, looking like he was ready to burst into another story.

"I know, I know," I said wearily. "Your favorite place! 'I wrangled twenty something wild mustangs with my left pinky toe nail there'!" I snarked, adding a bad imitation of Pecos to complete the image as I rolled the list up and threw it into my backpack, preparing to shadow travel.

"How did you _know_?" asked Pecos. And I looked at him sharply, not sure if he was joking in turn or not. We both stared at each other for a second before Pecos' mustache started twitching as if it was trying to jump off his face.

I slung my backpack onto my back and stepped into the shadows before Pecos saw my lips quivering almost as badly as his mustache. I heard a splutter of indignation before I was gone, stepping out 300 miles away in Ruby, Arizona. Hey, guess what, guys? I've gotten more accurate with my shadow travelling!

I let out a long laugh, trying to get it all out before Pecos caught up. I couldn't let him know I thought what he said was funny, that would only make it worse. I was just getting control of myself as Pecos whooshed up; appearing just has suddenly as I'm sure I had.

"That was rather unkindly of you to—," Pecos began, trying to scold me, before he stopped and peered at my face, keen black eyes suspicious. "You were just laughing at my joke, weren't you?" he asked, as I tried to keep my face blank.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I said, finally succeeding in keeping my lips steady and my face emotionless. "Come on, let's go."

"Wait just a minute!" Pecos tried to protest, but I had already rounded the slight bend, walking alongside the dusty road to approach the main gate. It seemed like kind of a pointless gate, it only covered the road that met the interstate as it dipped toward the entrance before stretching out in either direction. The little gate, now open to try and coax any visitors in, wouldn't do much to stop anyone who was really determined to get in and do some damage—we had seen a lot of graffiti on some of the other ghost towns. Even if the gate didn't look particularly flimsy, it wouldn't take that much effort to quickly off-road it around the small piece of fence on either side and get in. A small shack with a pathetic sign labeled "Ruby Visitor's Information Center" completed the picture.

I stopped and stared at the gate, confused as to why someone even bothered to put it there as Pecos nearly crashed into me. And by nearly, I mean he actually did, but because he's a ghost it didn't actually hurt or anything, but it did wake me up faster than a cup of concentrated espresso.

"I think it's a habit now," he said simply. His eyes were crinkling at the corners so I knew he was holding back a smile, but I couldn't tell if he was talking about the unnecessary gate or walking through me. I just glared at him in any event and marched through the open gate, heading toward the little shack situated next to the gate.

I tried the door knob and the door creaked on its hinges, protesting being slid open as it scraped across the inside of the shack which seemed to be just as dusty on the inside as it was on the outside.

Not all of the ghost towns had visitor's centers, but we tried to stop at the ones that did. It was Pecos' idea which I went along with after the time we got caught for trespassing in Hackberry. We weren't technically trespassing; the area where we were was completely open to visitors. During the day time. And we were there during the day time. For most of it. I'm not entirely sure why the park ranger got so upset. I thought I sensed something behind a basically collapsed house, but the ranger seemed to think I was going to spray paint the place or something. Pecos had to do some quick negotiating to get us out of there.

So, we decided it was just easier to go to the visitor's centers when they were there, pay the admission fee, and try to make friends with the people in charge there. If you butter them up with how much you love history, they might even let you in on a couple of secrets. Basically everyone wins.

As Pecos and I entered the shack, it took a second for my eyes to adjust to the change in light. As I waited, I heard the slight grunt of someone who isn't surprised by anything suddenly getting a slight surprise. My eyes had adjusted at this point and I saw a man staring back at me from behind the desk, the slight glow of a computer screen giving his face a pale complexion. I assumed he was somehow able to hook up onto the Internet, because otherwise he was just staring at a blank screen, which would have explained a lot, but I'm getting ahead of myself. Anyway, he looked like he was in his mid-twenties, a few wisps of stubble growing on his chin and his hair in messy, gold curls. He blinked at me and I blinked at him before Pecos gave me a nudge by basically jabbing his finger into my back. Literally.

"Uh, hi!" I began, trying to pump some energy into my voice. "We were wondering if we had to pay to visit Ruby, or if there were any dangerous areas, or—"

"I didn't hear your car," said the man, cutting me off.

I opened my mouth to explain, but was then cut off by Pecos. "We parked a little ways up the road," he explained smoothly. "We wanted to see what it might have been like for the people to come up to Ruby on foot like they did back in the heyday."

I tried to not make a face at Pecos' explanation and instead just nodded eagerly. "Yeah, we're big fans of ghost towns," I said through a smile that I hoped didn't look too fake.

The man arched an eyebrow, face still generally expressionless as he stared at us. Pecos and I traded a quick look before I spoke up again. "So, would it be ok if we wandered around here a bit?" I asked, carefully. Clearly this guy had been alone too much. Hey, don't look at me. I have the right to judge these things.

The man nodded slowly, reaching under his desk and producing a map of Ruby that looked like it had been photocopied half a dozen times. "Over here's the most interesting place," said the man, circling a building labeled "mercantile" with a pen, it was located pretty close to the gate. "We also have a couple of buildings still standing, like the school and the mine Manager's house," he continued, pointing at the buildings with his pen. "Just be careful of this edge of town where the mine was." He circled the bottom of the map, close to where he had just pointed at the mine Manager's house. "The mine's pretty much caved in and the mountain side is really dangerous."

I nodded my thanks and took the map as he slid it across his desk to me. "Thank you very much," I added for politeness' sake as he continued to look at me oddly.

"We best get going while we still have sunlight!" said Pecos cheerfully, breaking the quiet as the man just stared at us.

"Good call!" I responded, my cheeriness a little more forced, and Pecos and I nearly ran out of the little shack. For a second I thought I heard a little, nervous giggle, but when I looked back at the man, he was focused on his computer screen and the door was swinging closed behind us as Pecos and I left.

"He was weird," Pecos concluded as we both watched the door for a second, half expecting the guy to come running out with a rubber chicken in one hand and some type of jello in the other. Or maybe that was just me. It was one of those days.

"Yeah, he was," I agreed. And then Pecos and I both started laughing and at that point, I didn't care. It was either that or be seriously concerned for our collective health, so just laughing was easier. I can be an optimist sometimes.

"Come on," I finally said once we had finished laughing, following the map that the man had drawn all over, heading toward the mercantile.

"So, are your ghost senses tinglin'?" asked Pecos, hands tucked into his belt as he strode alongside me.

"Oh, shut up," I said, trying to be angry with him, but not managing it at all. We've had this discussion before. A lot. "You make me sound like Spiderman or something."

"No, I make you sound like Danny Phan—," began Pecos before I cut him off quickly.

"I don't even understand how you know what that show is," I protested for maybe the hundredth time as we walked up to the dilapidated building labeled mercantile both on the map and on a helpful plaque on the wall of the building. Compared to other dilapidated buildings we had seen so far, this one was still held together pretty well. At least, the roof was still attached and the windows were still mostly together.

"Are you getting' anything?" asked Pecos, completely ignoring what I had said before as we both examined the mercantile.

I let out a slow breath and closed by eyes, letting down my defenses slightly to allow the memories of the place to seep in. I winced at the sudden pang of violence that darted through my chest, a memory of some long gone suffering here. "Someone was murdered here," I said drowsily, not quite realizing I was saying it. "No, make that some_ones_," I amended, walking toward the building, eyes half-lidded with a hand out-stretched to make sure I didn't crash into something and knock over the whole building.

I shuffled a couple more steps forward and stopped just in front of the door to the mercantile, letting out a soft whistle. "Wow, this was a really violent attack," I said softly, wincing slightly as the screams began to echo from the past.

Shadowy forms manifested in my head, visible and yet invisible, and the sound soon resolved into distinct voices. Men yelling angrily in broken English, a Spanish accent that was so thick I could barely understand what they were saying. A southern accented voice responded soothingly, trying to calm down the angry customers. Seven shapes separated themselves from the shadows, appearing in my mind almost as if I was looking through the walls of the building and straight into the past. An eighth shape soon pulled itself away from the shadows, seeming to be facing the other seven.

The eighth figure seemed to cautiously turn around before the sound of gun fire rang through the air, and I could almost smell the mixture of gun powder and blood. The eighth figure grabbed a weapon for himself, I think it was a shot gun, even though he was yelling in pain and returned fire. Then things started to happen fast: a woman screaming as she was shot in the throat and her gold capped forcefully molars removed, a young girl cowering in the corner, trying her hardest not to scream, the eighth figure trying to fire his gun one more time before he collapsed, the bloodlust of the killers thick in the air as they murdered everyone in the store. I watched the whole thing play out in my mind, echoes from the past threatening to pull me in, images that were there and yet not there.

Suddenly, the familiar icy cold feeling made the bottom feel like it dropped out of my stomach and I let out a hiss, yanking up my defenses again to keep the urge from swamping me. See, like I said, I can't really see the memories of the past, but I can sense them in the shadows. "It's not here," I gasped out too quickly as I opened my eyes, stepping back and shaking myself to try to appear like I was in control.

Pecos just eyed me cautiously; I think he could tell something was wrong. The first time I did the ghost/memory sensing thing, Pecos looked like a cat when it gets scared, all fluffed up and waddling when he walked. He's gotten use to it now, but I think he can still feel something's wrong because it is. The instinct hasn't really gotten worse since the fight with Nemesis, but it hasn't gotten better either. I can feel it creeping at the back of my mind if I look for it, but mostly I just try to ignore it.

Yeah, you read right, that's what I _normally_ sense whenever I go someplace with any kind of traumatic history. If I keep my defenses up, it doesn't bother me too much, but if I'm doing something like this, purposefully looking for these memories, it can get a little overwhelming.

"Are you sure?" asked Pecos as he fell into step beside me as I walked away from the mercantile. "We're supposed to be lookin' for a place people suffered, right?"

"It's not here," I snapped again, the retreating urge and memories of the people that had been murdered putting me on edge. "We're looking for somewhere where _many_ people died. This was just once. Just the one time," I kept my sentences short, trying to shove down the memories and the urge, and regain my composure at the same time, feet carrying me away from the mercantile mechanically and fast. I had told Pecos about the prophecy once it became clear that he wasn't going anywhere. Well, I told him most of it, at least the parts that were relevant to the search now. He didn't need to know about me wagering my dearest thing.

"Let's at least look around for a little bit," said Pecos in a reasonable voice and I blinked, realizing that my feet were unconsciously taking me toward the exit. "Just to be sure we didn't miss anything'."

I jutted my jaw out stubbornly and was going to say no, just to be ornery, but then stopped, letting out a sigh. With the remnants of the memories fluttering away, I saw the point of his logic. It would be really annoying if we missed the place "_where the West once thrived_" just because I was being stubborn and dramatic over the memories I had seen. I sighed, trying to relax a little and nodded.

"Great!" cheered Pecos, bouncing back into his cheerful his self as he turned down the path, trotting toward the mine Manager's house. "I've been meanin' to tell you a story about the guy who used to live here. I had to help him out of a tight spot with a rattlesnake."

I trailed along behind him, only half-listening as he detailed how he had tied a rattlesnake up in knots with his bare hands. In a sailor's knot, nonetheless.

"Isn't that animal abuse?" I asked as we both stood in front of the considerably more dilapidated mine Manager's house.

"Nonsense," barked Pecos, his mustache bristling slightly at the insult. "It's only abuse if the snake didn't want it! I'll have you know that snake in particular was known for its back problems and had specifically asked me to do some chiropractics on it."

"So you were doing a back massage?" I asked dully, enjoying the fact that I was not thinking about creepy ghost murders or mysterious killer instincts, as I arched an eyebrow at Pecos.

"Naturally," said Pecos, missing my sarcasm and taking my comment at face value, clearly pleased with himself.

"Pecos, you know snakes can't talk, right?" I said, trying to keep my face straight as Pecos looked over to scowl at me.

"Oh…you—hey look, the warehouse!" he said, conveniently distracting himself from explaining how the snake managed to talk to him as he pointed over to a sad outline of a building that may have once been a warehouse, but now looked more like a fence with strangely high walls as the roof had collapsed a long time ago. Equipment from the time when the building was used as a warehouse to store tools from the mine littered the inside of the old building. Pecos and I wandered around the outside, examining the tools, Pecos telling stories about what each one of them did. He may have even been telling the truth this time.

I let out a sigh as we finished our circle of the warehouse, crossing my arms to look over the city of Ruby, or what was left of it. "I don't think there's anywhere else to look," I noted as Pecos stood next to me.

Pecos gave a slight nod, almost as if he wasn't fully paying attention and I turned to sling my book bag off my back to check the list when suddenly the ground underneath me gave out and I fell. I had enough time to remember what the man had said about the mountainside being riddled with holes from the old mine before I hit the ground with a _whump!_

"Nico? You okay?" Pecos' voice echoed from above as I let out a moan, gathering my wits before I tried to stand.

I let down my defenses enough so that I could shadow-see, praying that the killer instinct wouldn't take advantage of that. The rough outline of the tunnel I was in began to manifest itself as I reached out my hands, feeling the roughness of the wall on either side as I pulled myself up. Letting out a quick cry of pain as I tried to settle my weight on my right ankle, I silenced it, listening as my yell echoed around the long deserted mine.

"_Nico_?" came Pecos' voice from above, now decidedly more worried.

"I'm ok," I called back up. "I think I just sprained my ankle." I looked around, my shadow-seeing able to make out the tunnel as it continued on in either direction. I'm not sure how far I'd fallen, but it was enough that the light from above didn't reach down there.

"Well, can you get out?" asked Pecos, I could almost hear him pacing frantically outside at where I had fallen.

"Let me try, just a second," I said, trying to gather my strength to shadow travel out, but the jab of pain in my ankle kept me from going anywhere, and I hissed with annoyance. "No, I don't think so," I called back up. I don't think the sprain was that bad, but it was enough to keep me from doing any shadow traveling before it saw some medical care.

Suddenly there was a loud cry and for a second I thought Pecos was being murdered somehow. Then I realized he was singing. Or yodeling. Or doing some kind of cowboy yell. I haven't asked him what it was and I'm not sure I want to know. At any rate, he appeared by my side before the echoes of the cry had completely disappeared and he was beaming at me in the gloom. "I just called for help," Pecos informed me. "I think there's someone nearby who might be able to give us a hand. I decided to come down here and wait with you in the mean time."

"Oh, that's what that was," I said, grinding my teeth as I settled myself back on the ground, trying to not move my ankle too much. "Who's going to answer that call, anyway? A mating water buffalo?"

"No, a—," began Pecos before he quickly cut himself off and looked at me, his eyes round and wide. I stared at him in the same way, praying to the gods that I was hallucinating. "That wasn't you moanin' about your ankle, was it?"

"No," I swallowed, cautiously turning around to look in the tunnel around me. "That wasn't whatever it was that was going to answer your call?" I tried, feeling dread drop into my stomach, bringing back memories of the murder I had sensed not too long ago.

"Nope."

"Great."

Suddenly out the gloom lurched something I never hoped I would see. Its skin was blue, I could tell even in the darkness of the tunnel, and its mouth sagged, dripping a sickly kind of saliva on everything it passed. Its hands hung limply by its side as it walk, placing one decaying foot after another. And its eyes, its horrible pale eyes almost glowed in the tunnel, listless, but snapping to alertness as its wet nose smelled us. It was human shaped, just barely, but it really could be better described as a demon. It could even be better described as a Eurynomos, a demon of the Underworld that feeds on corpses, which is in fact what it was.

Pecos swore bitterly before grabbing my ankle, more like sticking his hand completely through it, numbing it completely. He yanked me to my feet as the Eurynomos lunged after us, Pecos pulling me along as I fought the urge to scream. Right after Melinoe, Eurynomos have always freaked me out and to be so completely useless around something like that was terrifying. At least my ankle wasn't hurting too bad at this point. Pecos' numbing trick seemed to have worked. Granted, I couldn't really feel my ankle at all anymore, but I could get away on it, and that was what mattered.

I quickly got my feet under me, pulling myself out of Pecos' grip and running for myself. My heavy footfalls echoed in the cavern and I didn't dare look back, terrified as to where I would see the thing. Pecos moved silently next to me, not really needing to run or breathe, but looking for a place to hide nonetheless. Even though he couldn't be hurt by a Eurynomos, they were seriously bad guys, and could give a ghost all kinds of misery, trapping their essence inside one of them for months.

"Here," whispered Pecos, turning sharply into a tunnel to our left, ducking just out of sight in the shadows, hoping to lose it.

I followed him with only seconds to spare, catching my breathing and praying that my heart beat wasn't as loud as I heard it in my head. The thing creeped down the corridor, sniffing wetly, its head moving from side to side. I held my breath as the thing moved by, continuing on down the corridor. We waited for a few minutes, half expecting to see it appear around the corner again, but we slowly let ourselves relax.

"Why don't you just banish it?" murmured Pecos in my ear. I bit my tongue from cursing myself stupid. _Why _didn't_ I just get rid of thing?_ But no, there wasn't time to beat up on myself, and I gave Pecos a sharp nod, just as the thing appeared back around the bend. It was moving faster now, almost as if it knew where we were.

I pulled out my knife for good measure as I stood up, pointing it at the monster. "Return to the Underworld," I commanded, putting just a touch of my Ghost King powers behind the command, I didn't want to make any mistakes. I felt Pecos shiver behind me at the force of my command, but the Eurynomos didn't react.

"Why isn't it banishin'?" asked Pecos.

"I don't know," I said, surprised at the calmness in my own voice, keeping my eyes on the Eurynomos who now seemed to be confused. "Run."

And we ran. I could feel the terror rising in me again, accompanied by the resurgence of the killer urge. I clamped down on it, swallowing hard as I felt the bile rise in my throat. I glanced over at Pecos as I ran, his brow was furrowed in thought as my feet pounded the ground.

"Any more bright ideas?" I asked, half sarcastic, half desperate.

"Just one," he said, his head jerking up to indicate the hallway in front of us. Really, it looked more like a hub of hallways as doors, tunnels, entrances, and exits lead off in all direction, an abandoned pail nestled in one of the little corners where two hallways split from the main hub. "Here, this way!" yelled Pecos, taking a sharp right into one of the tunnels, which I followed obediently.

The monster arrived at the intersection just a few seconds after us and took the tunnel to the middle right. How do I know this? Because Pecos and I suddenly came out of the tunnel to the far left, just catching a glimpse of the monster's back before we plunged off down the tunnel diagonal from the one we just emerged from.

My mind whirled as we emerged from our tunnel _again_ at the hub of hallways. I knew it was the same spot as before because I spotted the sad little pail that I had seen earlier. Either that or the mine had multiple pathetic pails.

I had enough time to wonder if we were shadow traveling somehow before dismissing it completely and suddenly coming up behind the monster staring down a tunnel which I think was the one we had just run down. If a monster could look confused, this poor flesh-eating monster was definitely confused as it swung around to snarl at us. I was caught between the urge to scream in terror and laugh at his face before Pecos had us change directions, opening one of the doors this time and slamming it shut behind us.

I was convinced we were going to wind up in a closet of some kind, the monster sure to get us seconds after we slammed the door, but we emerged on the other side of the tunnel intersection, ripping open another door to get there before taking a hairpin turn around into the tunnel right next to us.

"I have no idea what is going on!" I yelled at Pecos, so thoroughly confused that at that point, I would have believed anything.

"_Come on Scooby Doo, I see you, pretending you've gotta shiver_," Pecos merely sang cheerfully to himself as he ran.

"Not the time, Pecos!" I said, cutting him off, wincing. "My ankle's starting to throb again." After I told Pecos this, he merely nodded, finally breaking off his singing, eyes fixed ahead as if he was seeing something that I couldn't see.

I think we left the intersection maze at that point because I started to hear a strange pounding noise. My mind was still whirling so much from the intersections that I half thought we had gone back in time and were now back when the mine was operational as it sounded like a pickax or a hammer beating against some rocks.

"Pecos, where are we going?" I asked, trying to regain my grasp on reality, ankle throbbing now with every step.

"To the exit," he said, glancing quickly at me and grinning. "Almost there."

Suddenly we arrived at a blank wall, and even though the pounding seemed to be coming from here, it didn't really do any help for us getting out. And, I realized as I turned to see the Eurynomos slinking out of the gloom towards us, it didn't give us anywhere to go.

"Pecos," I said, trying to remain calm as sweat that I hadn't noticed before poured down my back, raising hairs as it left a cool trail.

"I got it, I got it," said Pecos, sounding as if he was trying to reassure himself more than anything.

I lifted my knife as it edged closer, surprised that it was still in my hand and thankful that I hadn't stabbed myself while I was running with it. "One more step," I said, trying to sound intimidating and ignoring the quiver in my voice, "and you can kiss your essence good bye."

The monster seemed the grin at me before sliding a rotting foot forward. Suddenly, a bunch of things seemed to happen at once. First thing was my ankle finally gave out and I toppled to the ground, doing my best to stop my fall and not stab myself with my knife in the process. Pecos let out a yell, lunging forward to either pick me up or fight the monster somehow. And, most importantly, the wall behind us collapsed.

Sunlight streamed in from behind us, lighting the monster in the brilliant afternoon Arizona sun. But then, looking at the monster from the awkward angle of basically underneath Pecos, I realized that it didn't really look that monstrous. The pale orbs that I thought were eyes were really just night vision goggles. The sagging mouth was really a Halloween mask. The shuffling feet was really pair of boots that were too big for the wearer.

Pecos sighed with satisfaction as I took this all in before turning to glance behind me at whoever knocked down the wall. "Great timing, John."

I couldn't take my eyes off the figure in front of me, though. And I was furious. I recognized the face behind the mask as the man slowly pulled off the goggles and the mask. It was the man from the information center. He tried to look penitent, but a familiar spark in his eyes alerted me to the fact that he was not sorry at all.

I heaved myself to my feet, limping angrily over to the man. "Do you know what you could have done?" I asked, voice deadly cold, fury seeping into every part of me. _You could have made me lose control!_ I wanted to yell at him, ignoring the part of me that was telling me I was losing control right then.

"Mark Pearson, son of Hermes," said the man pointedly looking at my knife, but still barely hiding a laugh. I ground my teeth. "Come on, you gotta admit, that was good. You should have seen the looks on your faces!" I glared at him, not wanting to admit that anything about what he just did was "good". "Oh, listen, I didn't mean any harm! I was _bored_."

This, of course, did nothing to calm me down. "You are an idiot," I said, brandishing my knife at the man.

"Easy there," said a voice that I didn't recognize, and I whirled around to finally see the man who had come to answer Pecos' call. He was an African American and he was massive, his broad shoulders spoke to the hours of physical labor he endured, his thick arms testified to the fact that they could swing the giant hammer that rested in his hand like it was a baseball bat. Also the sunlight seeping through his body was kind of a hint that he wasn't all there. So to speak.

I swallowed at the size of the man, temporarily cowed, but then my anger rushed back in, accompanied by the dangerous coldness. "This guy has just chased us all over the mine dressed up like a Eurynomos!" I exclaimed, scowling. "I almost stabbed him with this!" I gestured with my blade. Mark's eyes seemed to notice it for the first time and they widened with fear.

"That's not—," he started, voice stunned.

"Stygian iron," said the new ghost's voice calmly as he walked over to stand by my side. "He wasn't bluffing when he said your essence would be gone forever.

Mark gaped at me, a new emotion in his eyes. Now he was the one that was scared. That stopped the angry urge right in its tracks and I felt the tension and terror leave my body. I didn't want to be a monster, but the way Mark was looking at me, I felt like one.

With my anger gone, I realized how irrationally I had acted. Did I ever mention how hard it is to accurately see things when you shadow-see them? I didn't? Well, it's really hard to see things the right way when you shadow-see them. Shadow seeing is really only seeing the shadows, so unless you actually know what you're looking at, your mind can play tricks on you. I'm not sure why my brain decided to make Mark out to be a Eurynomos, but it did.

"Hey, I'm sorry for that," I said, feeling the guilt wash over me, not to mention a small amount of worry over what might have happened to Mark if the new ghost hadn't burst in.

"Don't worry about it, man," said Mark, slapping his thigh with the mask and goggles in slight frustration with himself, making a face. "It's really my fault that this all happened."

"Don't tell me you've been booby-trapping the mountainside again," murmured the new ghost and Pecos rolled his eyes, groaning. The monster turned man just nodded slowly. "Mark Pearson, we need to talk," said the ghost sternly.

"First, let's get Nico some ice," said Pecos, noticing that I was starting to sway again. After the anger left me, the fuel that was keeping the pain away and me upright was also slowly trickling away.

"Oh, right," said Mark, sliding an arm under my shoulder, because he was really the only one that could help me. So with Mark supporting a shoulder, I half walked, half leaned my way out through the hole the new ghost had made and back to the information center.

The new ghost walked to my other side with Pecos bringing up the rear. A soft smile graced his face as he strode by me, swinging his massive hammer like it was weightless. "Name's John Henry, son of Hephaestus, pleasure."

"Nico di Angelo," I said through gritted teeth, the pain had returned with a vengeance.

"di Angelo?" echoed Mark. "Oh, Styx, I read about you in the report from the Battle for Olympus. You're the son of Hades, aren't you?"

"Yep," I said, not really wanting to go through with this at the moment.

"Oh, dude, I wouldn't've done that if I knew you were, you know, you."

"Really?" asked John Henry, arching an eyebrow, smile still on his face.

Mark thought about this for a moment and then smiled in turn. "Probably not."

Pecos roared with laughter while I just moaned. Fortunately, we weren't too far from the information center at that point and there wasn't enough time for anymore conversation before we got there.

Mark settled me down in his own chair before rushing in the corner behind his desk, kicking at a mini-fridge that I hadn't seen before and pulling out some ice, finding an ace bandage from somewhere, babbling slightly about how the mine was once a part of the Labyrinth and still had some residual magic about it, which may have explained the hallway fiasco.

"Glad you could make it, John," said Pecos, thumbs tucked again into his belt, looking at John Henry, seeming to notice, and dislike, the height difference.

"I was in the area, looking over some of the old mine car tracks when I heard your call," said John, leaning nonchalantly on his hammer. "It was no trouble."

"All you do is work!" exclaimed Pecos as Mark quieted and began wrapping the baggie of ice around my slightly swollen ankle with the ace bandage. "You should come with us," Pecos continued as I looked up sharply. "We're goin' all over the West, lookin' for—."

But I aimed a swift kick at Pecos with my non-injured leg, which even though it went through him, seemed to surprise him enough to at least make him stop talking.

"Looking for what?" asked Mark, noticing my reaction, looking up innocently at me after he finished examining his work on my leg.

"Oh….you know," I said, floundering for a good lie, "just half-blood stuff."

"Right," said Mark slowly.

"So, are you coming?" asked Pecos eagerly.

"Not that your argument wasn't completely convincing," said John, subtle dryness in his voice, "but I need to talk to Mark privately."

"Yes, sir," said Mark, swallowing nervously as I heaved myself out of his chair, the ice doing the trick and numbing my ankle again. I could already feel the swelling going down. Pecos and I left the information center and closed the door prudently behind us. We waited for only a few minutes, trying our best not to listen in to the cold disappointment that seemed to come from the room, when John came out a few minutes later.

"That's all taken care of," said John wearily, rubbing his brow with his free hand. "I shouldn't need to come back here for a few months or so.

"Like I said, John, you need a vacation, come with us," cajoled Pecos.

"Shouldn't it be Nico's decision?"

"Nah, you don't care, do you Nico?"

"Well, I—"

"See? He's fine with it."

John Henry met my eyes, a wry smile on his face. I just shrugged tiredly and he nodded in response. "I haven't done a general survey of the surviving ghost towns in a while and this would be a good chance to do it," said John Henry all business as we left Ruby

"Oh, this is great! We can do some bro bonding time!" crowed Pecos.

"I'm not even going to ask how you know that word," I said, shaking my head slowly.

"'Bonding'?"

"No, 'bro'."

"So where are we off to next?" interrupted John before Pecos could explain exactly where he had learned the word.

"Let's see," I said, pulling the list out of my pack.

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A/N: Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter! Once again, if you want to follow Nico, search for The_GhostKing on Twitter for your daily dose of Nico snark. I feel like I had more relevant things to say, but I can't think of them right now.

Did you love it? Hate it? I don't care, just review it!


	18. Ice, Ice Baby

A/N: So sorry for the long wait! As an apology, I've written you my longest chapter yet (I think)! Anyway, enjoy it! Pertinent notes are at the end.

Disclaimer: Not mine!

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**Chapter 18:** Ice, Ice Baby

I felt like a marshmallow. I mean, I knew it was going to happen back when Chiron gave me the coat at Camp Half-Blood, but that didn't stop me from feeling like a marshmallow. And yeah, I'm sad to say that this was the most exciting thing going through my mind at the moment. Pecos, John Henry, and I had been going through ghost towns for about a month now since we all met up at Ruby. Since then we had blasted through the rest of Arizona, did a couple stops in Arkansas, pulled a few U-turns in California, and visited a bunch of other states and sites that were starting to blur together at this point. All I knew is that now I was standing in Idaho and I was freezing.

I shivered in the howling winter wind, even if my coat was warm, my head was still exposed and I was starting to lose feeling in my ears. We were in the double ghost town of Custer and Bonanza tucked into the central part of Idaho, up in the mountains. One of the spots was just the mill where apparently gold was first found and the other was the city where more gold was found later on. I honestly can't tell you which is which now though. I was having trouble keeping the ghost towns straight and it was hard to tell the difference between the two with the covering of snow over them. All I knew was that neither had any "suffering" or "death" to them beyond the normal sad, empty ghost town variety.

I sighed, watching the wind blow away the mist from my breath and looked around for my companions. Even if I was starting to get bored by all of the ghost towns I had seen, Pecos and John Henry sure weren't. I spotted Pecos standing in the mostly ice, but somehow still flowing stream, working a pan through the water and not seeming to care that the water was washing away some of his essence.

"You know there hasn't been gold in this area for years," I told Pecos. "That's why there's a ghost town here."

"Where's your sense of adventure?" asked Pecos, grinning up foolishly at me.

"In the last town, where you tried the same thing," spoke up John Henry, walking up behind me, sighing gustily as he tucked a clipboard into his bag.

For the record, I have no idea what John has been taking notes about. The one time I asked he just said it was "ghost stuff", whatever that means, and when I tried to look, the only things that were written were weird phrases like "not enough cobwebs," "retire the creaking door," and "check-in with PB," so I decided I just wouldn't care anymore. "If you keep doing that, you're going to lose your essence entirely," added John wearily.

Pecos glanced down at his legs, seemingly surprised by what John had said, and gasped dramatically when he saw his essence streaming away in the river. As Pecos scrambled quickly back up onto the bank, John and I traded a look. Pecos tried this at every stop and the same thing happened at _every _stop that had a river. John called it "reliving the past"; I called it "mentally unstable."

"Did you find anything here?" John asked me.

"Nope, struck out again with gold," said Pecos. "I think I should try mining at the next..." He trailed off when he saw the look on John's and my face. He cleared his throat awkwardly and then beamed at me. "You were saying, Nico?"

I restrained a laugh and instead shook my head. "Nothing here. Just snow."

John nodded his head briskly. "We'll keep moving along. Nico's cold and it's getting dark. We need to find a place for Nico to sleep for the night."

I scowled at John. At some point during our time together, he had taken it upon himself to ensure that I was well cared for. It's not like I have been living by myself for years or anything. I mean, you would think I would know how best to take care of my own body, but that's John for you. I think he takes his job of being a guardian of the west more seriously than Pecos does, so because I'm in the area, I get the special "favor" of his care. At any rate, running away or banishing wouldn't work. I can't banish John anymore than I can banish Pecos, and these guys can travel in the west as easily as I can shadow travel. Not that I've actually tried to run away or anything.

I opened my mouth to argue anyway, just for the sake of it, when John gave me a smile, arching an eyebrow, "I know a local place with some delicious hot chocolate."

I snapped my mouth shut. "How _good_ is this hot chocolate exactly?" I asked suspiciously. If I have one weakness, it's hot chocolate. But, then again, it wasn't smart to take food tips from dead people.

John opened his mouth to tell me just how good this hot chocolate was, but before he could answer, the strangest scent entered my nose: fresh apples. And this wasn't even the out-of-season-but-still-somehow-in-the-grocery-store apples; this was the smell of apples that have just been picked from the tree—fat, crisp and juicy.

"Well alright, Johnny's here!" exclaimed Pecos, smile blooming across his face.

"I wonder what brings him so far from the orchards?" mused John, looking over my shoulder, frowning thoughtfully.

I turned around to see a young man walking toward us through the snow. He looked like he was a little bit older than me with hair that was about the color and texture of straw. He only seemed to be wearing a pair of overalls and a straw hat, and if the fact that Pecos and John knew him hadn't clued me in that he was a ghost, his clothes would have. A normal person would have frozen in the clothes he was wearing.

"How many of you people are there?" I asked, exasperated, as this new ghost approached us.

"Not too many more," said John cryptically as Pecos wandered over to thump the new ghost on the back.

The man offered Pecos an honest smile, before a frown appeared back on his face that was clearly not use to frowning. I could tell from the way his forehead wrinkled and the corners of his mouth pressed down that the more natural lines on his sun-tanned face were innocent grins. So, basically he looked like a total sap. Or a hippie.

"This is so wild that I've found you here," he said, his voice carefree sounding despite the frown on his face. His eyes looked at me somewhat vacantly and I wondered if he was all there. "I thought I was going to have to bounce all over to find you guys, but this is, like, so amazingly awesome that I found you so close to the problem. It's like the Universe knew I needed help."

"Or I just have really terrible luck," I muttered, completely off-balanced by this guy. Was he high or something? Could ghosts get high?

"Oh, dude, my bad, that was, like, way rude of me," said the man, resettling his hat and presenting a hand, friendly smile again on his face. "My name's Johnny Appleseed, son of Demeter. I watch over the agriculture in the west, but mostly apples 'cause they're my favorite."

"Nice to meet you," I said, looking pointedly at the hand and arching an eyebrow, not entirely sure what he expected me to do with it.

"Oh right," he said, sliding his hand back in his pocket, still grinning. "Old habit, you know?" Judging by his clothes, it was probably a _really_ old habit.

"You said you had a problem, Johnny?" prompted John Henry.

"Oh, right," said Johnny, frown reappearing on his face. He only seemed to be able to hold one emotion there at once. "There's _something_ in one of my orchards." The way he said "something" sent a shiver down my spine. Or it might have just the weather. "I don't know what it is, but the crop has failed for the past five years or so. I didn't really notice it before 'cause there's been a drought the last few years and not much has grown well, but then the family that worked the orchard left all of a sudden, and I went to go check out the area to see if I could help make it ready for new farmers or if this could be another one of my own orchards." He paused and shivered. "There was something there. I don't know if I just didn't want to go in or there was some seriously bad vibes that were keeping me out, but I turned-tail and ran. I've been looking for you dudes ever since."

I swallowed nervously. What exactly was so scary that even a ghost was afraid of it? A lot of things, you might be surprised to know, and I know about most of them.

"We'll help you, Johnny," said Pecos, enthusiastically patting the new ghost on the back. Johnny offered the older ghost a smile and he relaxed a bit, making me realizing how tense he was earlier. What on earth could be in that orchard? The list was getting shorter and scarier.

"Awesome," said Johnny, "let's go!"

"Wait a moment, shouldn't we come up with a plan first?" asked John Henry.

"Well, we don't know exactly what we're facing, do we?" retorted Pecos, a teasing smile on his face.

"Even so, rushing in without a plan would just be plain reckless," insisted John Henry.

"And suicidal. For me at least," I added drily.

This seemed to make Pecos pause and he stopped to think for a second before a strange smile spread across his face.

"Pecos?" I asked drawing out his name, eyeing him nervously. "What are you planning?"

John Henry seemed to know what Pecos was thinking, though. "No, absolutely not! We don't—," he began, his eyes widening, before Pecos cut him off with an ear piercing whistle.

"Great," muttered John Henry once Pecos' whistle stopped echoing off the surrounding mountains and my ears stopping ringing.

"What?" said Pecos, voice almost innocent sounding. "This way, I can run ahead to see if anything's really dangerous and then get back here without whatever it is noticing me."

John Henry frowned for a moment as Pecos beamed at him. "That may be true," admitted John (Pecos punched the air in victory). "But, remember what happened the last time you tried to use your horse on a mission? We were left cleaning up tornados for weeks."

"It's not tornado season," replied Pecos simply.

"Oh, awesome, I haven't seen Widowmaker in ages," said Johnny, smiling easily, apparently catching onto what they were talking about.

"Wait a minute, _Widowmaker_? What kind of name is that?" I said, quickly cutting off the conversation. "And what horse has the power to make tornados? Is this some kind of ghost horse?"

"No, worse," said John Henry, neglecting to answer my first question.

"Better!" corrected Pecos.

"It's a wind horse," finished the two together, with very different levels of enthusiasm. And suddenly, with the sound and force of a rushing train, I knew exactly what they were talking about. Through the white of the blizzard around us came a blast of wind that was somehow drier and warmer than the air of the snowstorm. I went from shivering to a little uncomfortable in about five seconds and in the time it took my body to figure out the changing temperature, my eyes were still trying to process what I was seeing. On the one hand, it looked kinda like a strangely solid dust cloud, on the other it looked like a massive, angry black horse. It arrived in a spinning whirlwind of dust and hooves making Johnny let out a surprised little "woah!" when it finally stopped in front of us.

"Is that…an anemoi?" I asked looking the horse over as it stood in front of me, panting a little heavily from its mad dash from wherever it came from. "But I thought those were mostly people-shaped."

"Yeah, anemoi can be human-shaped, but they can also be horse-shaped. It's up to the wind spirit, so they can choose, right?" said Johnny, sounding like he knew what he was talking about, even though he ended with a question.

"That's right," said Pecos, absently running his hand over his horse's body, giving it a quick check-up. John Henry just massaged his temples.

"It's not going to try and kill us?" I asked. I had heard some stories about when demigods have flown in an airplane and seen anemoi outside of the window right before they went through some turbulence.

"Naw, he wouldn't hurt a fly," said Pecos, smiling at me over his horse's back before he swung himself up on it, riding bareback. "Do you think a gift from my very own father would try and kill people?"

"Yes," said John Henry, voice snapping with frustration. "There is a reason you call him, 'Widowmaker.' Pecos is the only one who can ride his horse," John Henry told me, keeping his eyes warily on the horse. "He may be fast, but he has a habit of making tornados and he's not entirely…._tame_," he finished, deciding on the right word.

"I'll keep an eye on him, John," said Pecos, rolling his eyes, for all intents and purposes acting like a teenager. "I'm the only one who needs to ride him, and it won't be for that long."

"Uh, dudes, can we hurry this along?" interjected Johnny, face worried again. "I'm all for being safe and stuff, but I don't think we have much time to waste with whatever's at that apple orchard."

It was a battle of wills as Pecos and John Henry glared at each other. Johnny and I traded looks and shrugged in unison.

And they glared at each other, and we waited, the wind whistling around us for what felt like years. In the time since the horse had arrived, the air had plummeted back to its original temperature, freezing, and I found myself shivering again subconsciously.

I think it was my shivering that did John Henry in. He glanced at me and sighed. "Alright, Pecos, go ahead," John finally consented, "but be careful, we don't know what—."

"Yehaw!" yelled Pecos, making his horse rear before kicking it into a gallop away from our group. He was gone before I even thought to take a breath again. Not that I could, the horse seemed to have taken the air with it.

"Uh, I don't think he knows where he's going," said Johnny, frowning off after Pecos.

"No, he doesn't," said John Henry, a weird expression on his face as if he couldn't decide whether he wanted to be exasperated or amused.

"Oh…right," said Johnny, nodding slowly and I could almost hear him thinking. "So, should we go after him?"

"No," I finally managed, air returning from wherever the horse had taken it. John Henry peered at me suspiciously, wondering why I was gasping for air; Johnny just looked confused. I shook my head and held up my hand; fingers spread apart, slowing putting down each finger, counting backwards from five. When I finally put down my pointer finger, Pecos returned like clockwork.

"I realized about halfway across the state that I don't know where I'm going," said Pecos, still grinning.

* * *

"Here we are," said Pecos, as we approached the orchard. We were out of the mountains now, but still in Idaho, this time in the south. The wintry wind from the north poured over the mountain ridges, streaking across the plain to fiercely cut through me, even though I was wearing my coat. I hated to admit it, but I really did need to find someplace warm. And soon. On the bright side, though, it wasn't snowing anymore, but there was snow on the ground.

We approached the orchard on an unplowed dirt road, a miserable gate with a sign that read "Apple's Apples" across the top. The once bright red lettering on the white background was now chipped and faded, a wood carving of an apple hanging cock-eyed in the middle of the sign.

"Apple's Apples?" I asked, lips quivering a little bit.

"Yeah, the Apple family used to live here," noted Johnny completely missing the point.

I traded a smirk with Pecos as the cowboy dismounted from his horse. "And just like I said, I can't sense any strong ghost-nasties or demons," pointed out Pecos, letting his horse wander away to graze, though how it was suppose to graze in the winter, I have no idea.

"That doesn't mean there's not anything here," John Henry pointed out for maybe the hundredth time. "We still need to be cautious."

"Right," I said, stamping my feet in the snow to make sure I could still feel my toes before drawing my Stygian blade. "Let's just do this."

The three ghosts eyed me cautiously for a second before nodding as well, drawing their weapons. Pecos of course had his pistols, John Henry had his massive hammer, and Johnny even had a weapon as well, a giant sickle. I'm sure we were pretty impressive looking, but I was too cold to care too much about it at the moment.

We entered the property, crossing underneath the sign, and I immediately felt myself tense. Yep, there was definitely a ghost here. Goose bumps raced across my body for a very different reason than the cold wind around me and the air suddenly felt stale, as if it had been cooped up for years, even though we were out in the open. The killer urge stirred and I clamped down on it hurriedly. It had been quiet since I had met John Henry and I was kinda hoping that it had stopped, but nope. There was something about this place that woke it up.

I glanced at John Henry as our group creeped cautiously forward, passing an old farm house and a bright red barn. John Henry saw me looking and nodded grimly. Returning the nod, I pushed back again at the killer instinct, feeling my stomach flip-flop. Maybe this was a bad idea. Johnny looked worried and Pecos' mustache was bristling like it does when he gets nervous, but we still kept walking. There was no sound except the whistling of the frigid wind.

But wait, that was completely true. I glanced around quickly, stopping walking to get my bearings. Was that singing? It was _beautiful_, the melody weaving in and around itself, lulling me to sleep. But it was also a little creepy, as it was sometimes louder and then suddenly quieter. I guess the creepy part should have been a big hint that this wasn't something safe, but the music was just so beautiful, how could it possibly be bad?

"Do you hear that?" I asked, looking around frantically, trying to pinpoint where the singing was coming from.

"No. Nico, are you alright?" asked Pecos, a worried look on his face that I hardly noticed. I had to find where that singing was coming from!

"Nico, what does it sound like?" asked John Henry, a frown on his face as I looked at him wide-eyed. Why couldn't they hear the music? It was even getting louder, though I still couldn't make out the words.

There! It was coming from down the path to the right. I bolted off, Johnny's protests faintly echoing behind me as I ran. An excited quiver seared through my body as I dashed, the words slowly becoming clearer.

"_Shadows slowly creeping down the prairie trail, everything is sleeping - ah, but the nightingale_." It was a woman's voice singing, low and smooth, that tugged somewhere in the deepest memories of my heart. I gasped as I ran; picking up the pace as the sound grew louder, pulling me toward the person singing the lullaby.

"_Moon will soon be climbing in the purple sky, night winds all a-humming this tender lullaby_." I think somewhere at the back of my mind, I knew it wasn't smart to run toward this voice. Whether it was the killer urge trying to take over, my ghost friends yelling at me from what seemed like far away, or just plain common sense, I somehow knew that what was waiting for me was not what I was hoping it would be in the deepest, darkest part of my longing. But everything seemed to be in a comfortable, reassuring fog so, I ran.

A small, young sounding voice in my head asked quietly, "mother?"

"_Cares of the day have fled, my little sleepyhead_." I arrived at a small, ice covered pond, my panting breaths ripping away from me in the wind. I hardly noticed the cold anymore; I only had eyes for the figure that stood on the ice in the very center of the pond. "_Stars are in the sky, time that the prayers were said._" She was beautiful in a sad way. Her hair was long and dark, hanging loose as it floated in some other wind than the one rushing around me. Her eyes were a strange luminescent green, almost seeming to glow in the gloom of the winter day, and red-rimmed as if she had been weeping. Her dress reminded me of something from "Little House on the Prairie" as she crooned at me, beckoning me forward. "_My little sleepyhead, to a prairie lullaby_." Oh, yeah, and she was completely see through.

Even so, the little alarm bells that echoed in my head did not stop me from stepping hungrily out onto the ice. I unconsciously slid my blade back into its sheath as I moved, backpack slipping off my back to the ground. Faint memories struggled to manifest themselves in my mind. There was another woman once, beautiful and young. Her face was blurry in my mind's eye and her voice warped from the long years since I had seen her, since I had forgotten her, but she was somehow still there. The figure in the middle of pond somehow was able to pull those feelings out of me and draw me in. All I could do was walk toward her now.

"_Saddle up your pony. Sandman's here to guide you down the trail of dreams. Tumble in bed my tired, my little sleepyhead, to a prairie lullaby_." The woman continued to sing, eyes fixed on me as I slipped and slid across the ice, slowly approaching her. Her arms stretched out to me and I was so close, just a little more!

_Mother!_

Faintly, from what seemed like far away, I heard someone calling my name. They seemed frantic and worried, which didn't make any sense to me. I was going to my mother. Something else which probably should have also concerned me was the sharp, harsh cracking of the ice under my feet, but again I didn't stop. Just a few more steps and I would be back with my mother.

In the end, it was probably the ice that saved me. I was about to enter the woman's embrace when the ice underneath me groaned and shifted. Slipping, I tried to regain my balance on the uncertain surface but before I could get my feet under me, I fell through the ice, crashing into water colder than anything I could imagine.

On the bright side, the strange haze that had come over me was shattered in an instant as I struggled to swim in water so frigid it took my breath away. On the not so bright side, I was kinda drowning. I kicked my way to the surface, but my hands only found an ice roof above me. Searching frantically for the hole I had made, I struggled to stay at the top of the water, my thick coat trying to drag me down. Scrambling for the opening, I tried to hold what little air I could inside me as my lungs screamed to take another breath.

The seconds ticked by as hours as my hands frantically searched for an escape. My mind was on hyper-drive, coming up with absolutely nothing helpful other than the frantic yelling of complete panic. Finally, the battle with my lungs won and I gasped for air that was not there, taking in a mouthful of water instead. And I was sinking, my tired lungs deciding that maybe the water wasn't so bad, convincing my mind that maybe it was just better to relax.

I almost lost consciousness at that point, but then I felt a pair of strong hands around my waist and I was yanked out of the water. The air outside almost felt warm by comparison as I shivered back on the surface, a near hysterical voice in my head starting to tell me that I had almost died. The hands dragged me to the edge of the pond, finally letting me rest on the much more stable ground. Looking around blearily, I saw Pecos leaning over me, his hands on my shoulders as he held me steady. He was the one who pulled me out, but that wasn't important now. I tottered to my feet and continued turning, eyes glazing over John Henry and Johnny before landing again on the woman.

From some unknown stores of energy in my body, I yanked my sword out of its sheath and glared at the woman, my body stilling. "Reveal your true form," I bellowed, faintly wondering if the killer urge was about to take over and then not caring one bit if it did. My body felt numb, but strong as if I had every right to command ghosts and they had every reason to fear me and do so.

My mind distantly registered that my body was nearly frozen from falling in the water, my coat still dripping wet, dragging me down, but my body was being fueled by some other icy source than the water or air around me. I had stepped into the powers of the Ghost King in order to energize myself for the fight to come. And I _liked_ it in a weird, detached way, my body too physically numb to really follow what was happening.

The woman hovered for a second in her guise before she suddenly split into two forms; one, a woman who looked much like the one who had sung to me but with pale blue eyes rather than green eyes, and the other, also a woman, but with green skin, bleeding cheeks, and red-rimmed eyes. The name of the latter popped into my head as I stood scowling ferociously at the two. "Achyls, you are a long way from the Underworld," I said, naming the demon of misery for who she was.

A little simpering smile spread across her face, even though she still looked worried. "I was invoked, Ghost King," she moaned, her overgrown fingernails raking her tattered dress, her dusty head trembling.

"Then this invocation is over," I said firmly, pointing my blade at the demon. "Return to the Underworld." And she did, disappearing in a hiss of fire and a sigh of sulfur.

Then, turning to the other woman, I almost felt my concentration lapse, making my energy sag dangerously. I felt Pecos re-grip me on the shoulder and I nodded my thanks. "And who are you that torments this lake and performed the invocation?" I asked once I got my voice back, focusing on the woman and trying not to let the emotions that the woman had sung to me resurface.

"I am Eliza Gooding," said the woman slowly, voice sounding resigned.

"Why did you try and trap me?" I asked, hearing my voice crack as I asked the question.

"I have been cursed by the gods," she said quietly, though I still heard her over the wind, glaring sullenly at me.

"Why?" I asked, keeping my voice calm as I met her pale blue eyes. "What did you do?"

"It's not what I did, Ghost King, it's what the gods did to me," she hissed back. "They destroyed everything I loved! My marriage, my son, everything!"

"Tell me," I insisted.

She scowled at me and then spoke, almost unwillingly. "I was married to a man, Henry Gooding, when we first settled in Idaho. He planted this apple orchard with his own two hands." I heard Johnny let out a surprised noise as John shushed him. "I would work with him during the day and sing songs to help pass the time. We were so happy."

She paused to look at me again and I just continued to stare coldly at her. She offered me a brief smile, but only for a moment as it flashed across her face, before crashing down and she glared angrily at me. "I attracted the attention of the god Apollo and I became pregnant with his son." Her voice turned to acid as she spat out her story, her beautiful features twisting with it. "I couldn't betray my husband like that, so after I had the child, I drowned him in this pond, telling my husband it was an accident."

"You did what?" I asked numbly, my mouth dry and my feet rooted to this spot. Surely I didn't hear that right. _She killed her own son?_

Eliza continued without me asking her to, ignoring my question as her rage blazed, finishing her story. "The gods knew, though, of course they knew, and so they cursed me, tying me to this spot for what I did. With the help of Achyls, who answered my call, we have tried to seek revenge on the gods, or at least the children of the gods." She glared at me furiously, as if daring me to criticize her for what she had done.

I swallowed, stunned by what I had just heard. "How could you kill your own son?" I finally asked. My skin crawled as she looked at me. She might have been a human at one point, but she was so twisted that there was very little humanity left. My heart thudded in my chest. Was she this was because of the gods? Because of the curse? Or was she hateful from the beginning that she had lost her humanity long before she was cursed?

Eliza's mouth twisted in a horrible grimace. "That was not my son," she said bitterly. Yep, it was definitely the third option, which now that I think of it, is not that comforting.

"Then the gods have judged wisely," I said, feeling the words fall from my lips, but not sure if I actually believed them, "for the love in your heart is too small." Even though she was so hateful, surely leaving her here was dangerous, and it's not like she was learning her lesson.

The woman laughed hollowly at me. "Poor little Ghost King," she said mockingly. "I saved my child from the fate of a _half-blood_." She hissed the word out as if it was toxic. "If only your mother had done the same."

I stared coldly at her, my thoughts coming to a complete stop, feeling the killer urge scream through my body, lit by the venom of her words. "My mother loved me, regardless of who my father was. It's a pity your son can't say the same thing."

Eliza gasped, letting out a horrifying, shrieking yell as she lunged toward me. I felt Pecos, John, and Johnny move at my side, trying to respond to the threat as time seemed to slow, but I remained still, raising my blade slightly in a block.

"Freeze," I commanded softly and she froze mid-lunge, face contorted in her yell. The only thing that could move were her eyes as they darted frantically around before finally locking onto my face.

"Now I know I can't banish you," I continued softly, killer instinct calling for her essence. "The gods have cursed you to remain in this spot, but I can make you sleep. Hopefully when you dream, you will think about the son you could have had and come to realize exactly why you are being punished."

The woman's eyes widened one final time as I switched my blade to my other hand, raising my right palm so it faced her. "Sleep," I commanded forcefully, and the ghost's eyes slid closed, her sleeping form hovering for a moment before sinking slowly through the ice and down into the depths of the pond.

There was silence for a moment; the only sounds were the wind howling across the flat land and my heavy breathing. "Well, that could have gone better," I said finally, between chattering teeth, my shivering finally catching up to me, my stomach twisting in horror as my mind refused to think about what had just happened. And I promptly sagged, going unconscious as Pecos guided me down to the ground so I didn't fall too heavily.

* * *

I awoke slowly, enjoying the sensation of being gently warmed by what felt like a quilter's heaven worth of blankets. Letting out a slow happy sigh, I wiggled my toes and fingers, stretching a little, relishing in the feeling in all of my body parts before freezing, there was people hovering all around me.

"Dudes, Nico's awake!" chirped one of the people to the others in the room, before looking down to talk to me. "Nico, you totally blacked out. At first, I was like 'woah, he just put the creepy ghost lady to sleep.' Then I was like, 'woah, Nico's shivering a lot,' and you were like, 'woah, dudes,' and you were just _out_, man."

Blinking blearily, I recognized the voice and scowled up at the person speaking. "Thanks for that, Johnny. I never would have known that I was unconscious if it hadn't been for you."

"No problem," said Johnny Appleseed cheerfully, leaning back from me to rest against the wall, my eyes coming into focus to see his smiling face.

I wanted to keep scowling at him, but my face broke into a smile. It was so nice to be warm. And alive.

That thought wiped the smile off my face. _I almost died_, I repeated to myself, testing the words as they rolled around my head. Not only did I almost drown, but the killer instinct was so much stronger. And it felt so natural, I has just stepped into it and let it carry me away. Thank the gods the woman wasn't alive anymore. I shuddered, shoving myself away from that line of thought; I didn't want to think what I might have done to her.

I looked up suddenly, sensing again people's eyes on me. "Thanks for bringing me here," I said generally, meeting John Henry's eyes specifically where he stood at the foot of my bed. He gave me a soft smile and nodded.

"Naturally," said Pecos, standing at my shoulder. "You were starting to change colors," he informed me, helpfully.

"Yeah, I try to avoid that when I can," I said, keeping my voice light, my eyes dancing wickedly. Pecos smiled under his bushy mustache, relaxing, and I realized suddenly how tense he had been. Was he actually worried about me?

I opened my mouth to tease him about it, but was interrupted when a man in a white lab coat bustled into the room. Realizing with a jolt that I must be in a hospital, I tried to sit upright, wondering what kind of strings John Henry, Pecos, and Johnny had to pull to get me in here.

"Don't worry about sitting up," said the man, his voice a pleasant baritone. "John Henry told me what happened. We're just waiting for your body to finish warming up. You were dangerously hypothermic—your body temperature was very low."

Scrutinizing the man, I saw a somewhat scruffy, middle aged doctor. His blond hair still had hints of boyish curls, even though there were grey streaks in it, and his chin was rimmed by a couple days old stubble. Even so, he looked in control of the situation, completely at ease in his scrubs and lab coat. The room I was in, I finally noticed, was nice, if sparsely furnished, with an attached bathroom, a desk and chair, and the very comfortable bed I was currently enjoying. My backpack sat on top of the desk.

"How much did he tell you, exactly?" I asked slowly, wondering what story John cooked up to get me in here.

"Oh, everything," he said, smiling good-naturedly down at me as he loosely clasped my charts in his hands.

"_Everything_ everything?" I pressed carefully. This guy reminded me of someone; that slightly cocky smile, the curly blond hair. Who was it?

"Everything," he said, and suddenly his brown eyes flashed with something that wasn't entirely human.

"Wait a minute, who are you? Are you a ghost doctor? A god?" I asked, my head spinning, trying to figure out who this guy was.

"Yes, I am a god," he said, smiling reassuringly down at me, and I couldn't decide if this made me feel better or not. "My name is Asclepius, and I am god the medicine."

"I thought that was Apollo's area of expertise," I asked dully, looking at the guy, trying to remember if I had seen him before. Nope, I hadn't.

"He's my father," said Asclepius.

"That explains the, uh, family resemblance."

Asclepius chuckled lightly, a mischievous spark in his eyes that I definitely recognized as Apollo's. "I was once a demigod like you, but after I died, Zeus granted me and my daughters godhood."

"Daughters?" I asked. I was feeling especially stupid at the moment, asking so many questions, but I had honestly never heard of Asclepius before. Not to mention I had just come to from being unconscious and hypothermic, which I think gives me a pretty valid excuse.

"Yes, they each specialize in a certain facet of medicine," he said as if he thought this explained everything. It didn't. I just blinked slowly at him, and he smiled again. "Shall I check your vitals while I explain?" he asked and I nodded.

He pulled out a flashlight and flashed it gently to the side of my eyes, checking my eye reflexes or maybe just trying to blind me. "I have four daughters: Panacea, who is the goddess of universal remedy; Hygieia, who is the goddess of cleanliness; Iaso, who is the goddess of recuperation from illness; and Aceso, who is the goddess of the healing process," he told me as he worked.

He checked the IV in my arm, which I hadn't noticed before he started fiddling with it, but then it began to itch and make me feel slightly nauseous. "Don't Iaso and Aceso kind have the same job?" I asked, trying to distract myself from feeling sick.

Asclepius peered into my face, somehow knowing that my stomach was doing dance moves. "When my daughters first received their jobs, they were very different things," he said, his voice soothing me as he worked. He was basically the perfect doctor, from the way his voice calmed me down, to the way he carefully worked to check-up on me. I listened to what he said, letting my stomach settle back down. "But as medicine has developed, their jobs have become more similar. After some years of arguing, we eventually decided that Iaso would deal with problems resulting from internal dysfunctions, and Aceso would deal with problems resulting from external factors."

This didn't make much sense to me, but I just nodded, happy that the nauseous feeling was all but gone. Now I just needed to remember not to look at the IV again. "Open your mouth, please, I'm going to take your temperature," he commanded, and I obediently opened my mouth so he could slide the thermometer in. I worked my tongue so the termometer rested underneath it and waited, listening to Asclepius as he continued to talk amiably.

"So, for example, if you were here with an immune disorder, Iaso would be helping you, but because you're here with hypothermia, Aceso is the one attending you."

"As long as it works for you guys," I said around my thermometer, still confused. It beeped at me and I was worried for a second that I had done something wrong.

Asclepius didn't seem concerned though as he pulled it out of my mouth. "Ah, good, your temperature is back to normal," he informed me before chuckling. "The clinic is quieter now that we've divided the jobs properly. Aceso should be along soon with some hot chocolate." I perked up at this. "We'll let you rest for a little longer, but then you should probably return to your quest."

I froze for a moment and looked at Asclepius. "You know about my quest?" I asked hesitantly, for some reason suddenly very afraid.

"Nico, everyone knows about your quest," said Asclepius, and although he still had a slight smile on his face, his voice was grim. "We can all feel you making big changes." I swallowed and he rested his hand reassuringly on my shoulder. "Good luck, Ghost King. If you ever need us again, just come back to Dr. Asclepius's Clinic for Heroes," he said before quietly leaving the room.

Despite Asclepius's reassuring words, I felt like the pit of my stomach had fallen out and the nauseous feeling was beginning to return. My three ghost friends stood awkwardly in the room. After having stepped back to allow Asclepius room to work, they remained against the wall, all eyeing me hesitantly. I looked at them, trying to meet each of their eyes in turn, but they all looked away after a few seconds of meeting my eyes. "How long have you known?" I asked quietly, feeling the urge roll in my stomach, but I dug my fingernails into my palms. No, I would not give in to this now.

Pecos tried to smooth his mustache down, taking a hesitant step forward. "I felt it the night before I found you," he said carefully, a look of uncertainty in his eyes. "I think I was the closest to you of the three of us, so I went to see what you were. You must have shadow travelled away just before I got to you, and then when I found you next, you were being attacked by them Stymphalian birds."

"What do you mean, you 'felt' me?" I asked, dropping my eyes to my lap, feeling my body start to shake. I dug my nails into my skin harder, not letting the urge out.

"We can all feel when a Ghost King flares," said John Henry gently, "when they start to give into their powers. We had felt it a couple times before, but none so strong as the night before Pecos found you, the night you started your quest."

"We can feel your powers, like, _growing_ too, dude," said Johnny just as quietly, and I could feel his eyes asking a question that I didn't want to answer.

"Is that why you can…," I asked, my voice trailing off as my stomach twisted itself into another knot. A raw yell of horror bubbled in my throat. I was scared again, but this time, scared of myself. Was I becoming a monster already? Not yet. I had to hold it off! I was nowhere close to being done with my quest.

"Hot chocolate, dear," said a cheery voice, breaking the tension of the room faster than a rubber band snapping. Into the room bounced a graciously smiling lady, maybe in her early twenties. Her red hair was curled perfectly on her head, twisting into a bun so it stayed out of her face. She managed to make the scrubs she was wearing both comfortable and fashionable with the splash of flower patterns on her blouse and her cheerful, green pants. "I'm Aceso, but my father probably already told you that," she gave me a wide grin and I felt better just looking at her. "Here's some hot chocolate to get you warmed up. I'm going to start getting you ready to be discharged."

She passed me the mug of hot chocolate, which hit the spot. I have to admit, the thought of eating hospital or even clinic food didn't sound that appealing, but this was absolutely amazing, and it even helped me take my mind off my dark thoughts, if only for a little while. "Let's get that IV out of you, shall we?" she asked, beginning the process of unhooking me from the machine. I did my best not to pay attention, carefully keeping my eyes only on my hot chocolate as she pulled the tube out of my skin. The three ghosts in the room kept their eyes averted from me, but I did notice Johnny shooting a couple dreamy looks Aceso's way as the cheerful nurse continued to work.

Eventually she was done, and I was finished with my hot chocolate. She mentioned something about discharging me when I was ready and I nodded mutely, handing her my cup. When the nurse finally bustled out, I turned my eyes back to the ghosts, enjoying the soothing feeling of the hot chocolate in my stomach, but I knew that feeling would soon disappear.

I licked my lips, remembering the question I was going to ask the three ghosts. "Is that why you can touch me?" I asked stiffly, finally managing to get the words out. I had been trying not to think about it, but when it was late at night and I was trying to fall asleep, the memory of the time Pecos yanked me to my feet in the mines would rise to the surface, making me shudder. And again, Pecos had pulled me out of the frozen water today.

The ghosts all traded looks, before they nodded in unison. "It works both ways," Pecos said. "We can touch you now, and you can touch us."

I swallowed and nodded. "And you just felt all this happen?" I asked bitterly.

Again the three ghosts nodded. "Pecos felt it the most because he was closest physically to you, but we can all feel it," said John Henry.

"_All?_" I asked, my eyes widening. All the ghosts in the world could feel this happening to me?

"All," responded Pecos definitively.

"Oh, gods," I murmured to myself, slumping back onto my pillows and hiding my face. Great, I'm going to have an audience for when I go completely insane. This Ghost King thing was so strong that all the ghosts could feel it and even the gods knew something was going on. How on earth was I supposed to beat this thing? I gritted my teeth, not sure if I wanted to punch something or cry.

"Hey," said Pecos gruffly, gripping my shoulder. "Nico, you're not alone in this." I tried to jerk out from his grip, but he wouldn't let me go. I even tried to pull his hand off with my shoulder with my own hands, but even though I could feel his fingers with my own, and push them around as if he were solid, his grip was too strong for me to dislodge it. The other two ghosts watched me struggle before I gave up, resting my head on Pecos' stomach.

"Yeah, you've got us, Nico," said Johnny softly, a broad hopeful grin on his face as he tilted his head to look at me.

"We're not going to stand by and let you fight this on your own," said John Henry stoutly, summoning his hammer in an instant. "I'm going to train you," he added as if this had already been decided.

"He's the best fighter of the west," Pecos informed me, proudly, "well, all-around fighter, I should say. I'm better at pistols than he is."

I choked out a laugh. My eyes felt heavy and wet and I wasn't entirely sure why. "Why do this for me?" I asked, my voice cracking.

"Because we want to," said Pecos stubbornly, looking down at me as he arched an eyebrow as if daring me to ask for a better reason than that.

"And it'll be the most fun I've had since that huge apple crop in '98," said Johnny, still smiling.

"So I guess I'm stuck with you," I said drily.

Johnny nodded, beaming widely as Pecos gave me a thump on the back. "You bet you are. Now what say we tie up all this sappy stuff and head out to beat this curse?" Pecos asked, grinning wickedly though his voice was gentle.

I nodded a final time, swallowing hard. "Thanks, guys."

"It is our pleasure, Nico," said John Henry, speaking for the group as he smiled.

* * *

A/N: Whew, a lot of things to talk about for this chapter. First and foremost, a big thank you to the folks at the Ghost Writer's Community. My story has recently recieved the honor of being dubbed a "Fame Magnet". They wanted me to mention that I recieved this award and I do so with pleasure. Thank you to the people on that forum!

Next note is that the song sung by Eliza/Achyls is a traditional western lullaby called "Prairie Lullaby". I used the version sung by Laura Viers as a reference. So if you want to hear what Nico was hearing, feel free to Youtube that, I guess.

Final note is that there actually is a god Asclepius. He is a really interesting god mostly for the stuff that his worshippers left behind. Feel free to check that out, but be warned that it's not necessarily all kid friendly. Anyway, he was kind of a big deal back in the day and there were little temple/hospitals all over the ancient world. I wish I could include more about him because he's kind of my favorite god, but this is Nico's story, not Asclepius's.

Thank you for reading my story. Remember to favorite, alert, and especially comment! Also, check out The_GhostKing on Twitter for Nico snark!


	19. Monster Mash

Disclaimer: As always, the characters are not mine! Author's note in the usual spot.

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Chapter 19: Monster Mash

"Nico, you're not focusing," said John Henry, his low voice sounding vaguely disapproving.

I cracked open one eye to look at him, feeling somewhat sheepish. "I'm sorry, John, I just can't. I'm really tired, I guess." I added a fake yawn to the end of what I was saying, trying to not feel too guilty, even as I resumed my position. I was trying to focus, really I was.

It was another month after the run-in with Eliza and my trip to the Asclepius clinic. In that time, John Henry put me in an intensive training regime in addition to going through all the ghost towns. So, not only was I shadow traveling all over the freaking country, now I also alternated between days of practice duels with each of the ghosts and days of meditation. Today was a meditation day and it just wasn't working. John Henry claimed that meditation was supposed to help me "focus my inner turmoil," which sounded way too much like something Johnny Appleseed might tell me to do. Anyway, the way he described it was that I was just supposed to listen; to be still and listen. I had no idea what on earth I was supposed to listen to, but as I sat in the hotel room as the guys puttered around doing whatever ghosts do in their free time, my mind kept drifting back to that run-in with Eliza.

And yes, you read that right, I am in a hotel. Don't make any snarky comments. I'm here mostly because Pecos and John Henry insisted. And also because it's in the middle of freaking December. Next time I go on a quest, can it please be to some place tropical?

Some place tropical and without ghosts. I stretched a little bit from the cross-legged position I was in for meditating, scowling slightly as I remembered Eliza. Why did she affect me so badly? I had run into hundreds of ghosts before, why did she make me completely lose it?

So, needless to say, the meditation parts hadn't been going too well.

"Something wrong, Nico?" asked John Henry, settling down on the bed next to me.

"Oh, no, sorry," I said, snapping back into my meditation position again, crossing my legs and putting my hands on my knees. "I just got stiff."

"Uh-huh," said Pecos sarcastically from over by the TV, staring at the screen even though it was muted. "And I'm the Headless Horseman."

"I met him once," Johnny Appleseed piped up somewhat dreamily from where he was lounged on the other bed. "He was a really nice guy."

"Not the issue here," said John Henry smoothly, turning back to me as Pecos snorted. "Nico, you have not made any progress in your meditation since we started. Even though your weapons training has progressed, you can only go so far unless you learn to control your mind."

"It's—," I opened my mouth to lie again but stopped myself when I caught the look in John Henry's eyes. Was I really so afraid that the Ghost King powers had gotten so strong that they could swamp me so completely? Was it better to be afraid of something I didn't know or something I did know? I swallowed and dropped my eyes, looking away. "It's just," I began, speaking the truth this time, "I can't stop thinking about how Eliza trapped me so fast," I admitted. "She was just singing and I was caught."

Pecos grunted from his chair in front of the TV, standing up to move over to where John and I were sitting. "That was my fault, partner. I'm sorry I missed spotting her," he admitted, face underneath his bushy mustache unreadable.

"I don't think it was entirely Pecos' fault for missing her," said John Henry thoughtfully. "Remember, Johnny Appleseed was able to sense Eliza initially as well, and then we all felt her once she trapped Nico." I saw Johnny frown from the other bed, a crease appearing between his brows as he nodded. "Eliza's powers were specifically tailored to trap young demigods," John continued, leveling his eyes on me. "And they affected you so strongly because…"

John's voice trailed off, but I knew exactly what he meant. It was because Eliza's message was what I wanted to hear. I wanted a mother. In some dark part of my mind, I liked remembering meeting Eliza because just for those brief moments, I had a mother again. Shuddering, I tried to mentally shake off the depressing thoughts as easily as I could shake my body, but I didn't think that would work.

Someone placed a rough hand on my shoulder and I looked up to meet Pecos in the eyes. "You're not weak," he said sternly, his Texas drawl evident. I met his ghostly eyes, wanting to believe what he said, and sighed.

"Yeah, thanks," I finally said, breaking my eye contact with Pecos. He gave my shoulder a squeeze before letting go and wandering back to the TV. _I'll believe what Pecos said. Someday_, I promised myself.

John Henry echoed my sigh as well, standing up. "Perhaps enough meditation for today." I nodded eagerly, standing up to finally stretch all the kinks out. "Besides, room service should be here soon."

"Groovy," crowed Johnny, rousing himself off the bed and wandering over to watch the TV with Pecos. I snorted, watching them go. I never quite understood why the ghosts liked to watch me get room service, but Johnny once said it smelled good. Which, when I think about it, doesn't explain anything.

Almost as if on cue, there was a knock on the door. "Room service," said a voice gruffly, which probably should have clued me in that this wasn't the friendly maid that delivered that beautiful blessing the gods bestowed upon the earth, room service.

I walked over to the door, and reached out to grab the handle. "Nico, wait—," said John Henry, but too late as I pulled open the door.

The first impression I had of the man who stood on the other side of the door was big-ness. Where Johnny was tall and thin, and John was big and well-muscled from swinging his ridiculously huge hammer for so long, the man on the other side of the door dwarfed both of them. This guy was a mountain and they were the foothills. (For those wondering about Pecos, he doesn't even really factor into the discussion. He's shorter than me. Sorry Pecos.) Not only was he tall, but he was wide with broad shoulders and thick, trunk-like legs. His arms completed the whole picture, and although they didn't have the tone to them that John's did, he could clearly give a mean punch all the same. His clothes were old and worn so it was hard to tell what color they were originally. His face was mostly hidden by his long, thick grey beard and floppy hat that dipped low over his face. A giant ax that put even John's hammer to shame rested on his shoulder.

"Uh…" I took a step back from the door, intimidated by the man's stern stare. "Not the room service?" I asked, hand slowly edging to where my blade was strapped by my thigh. I was pretty sure I would be alright with my friends behind me to back me up if this guy attacked me, but it would probably hurt. A lot.

John Henry stepped in front of me to intercept the man and Pecos came up to stand at my shoulder. "Good evening, Paul Bunyan," John said cordially enough.

"You know this guy?" I whispered to Pecos, who nodded, his eyes curious. The mountain of a man who stood in the doorway quietly scanned the room, his eyes picking up on every little detail of the space before resting on me. I swallowed slightly under the weight of the man's eyes, but I didn't break eye contact.

The man then stepped into the room, which was a statement enough in itself, brushing past John Henry and closing the door. The man's eyes were still locked on me and the only thought that bubbled to surface of my brain was that this was one ghost I did not want to cross. John Henry cleared his throat. "Paul, is there something I can help you with?" he asked, moving to stand in front of Paul again, this time with a more solid stance, one that silently told the new ghost that he would not so easily be moved.

Paul's eyes slowly left me, turning almost lazily to look on John with their intent gaze. "I need your help," the new ghost finally muttered, his voice gruff and low.

"My help?" John Henry asked, slightly nonplussed.

"All your help," Paul said, looking slowly over the room but conspicuously skipping over me.

"What do you need our help for, Paul?" Johnny asked, pulling himself up to sit on the armrest of his chair, an excited look on his face.

"Echidna has Blue," said the ghost, stony faced.

This statement made no sense to me, but apparently it was something of a bombshell to the other ghosts as they all started to ask questions at once, their faces urgent and concerned. I stepped back from the group, feeling alienated.

I didn't like feeling left out. It was a juvenile, immature feeling, I know, but I couldn't shake it off. The way Paul kept glancing at me every so often, I knew he had a bone to pick with me and I wanted to know why, especially because I was nearly certain I hadn't seen him before. "A hedgehog took a color?" I finally blurted out loudly, feeling frustrated, and suddenly all eyes were back on me. I held the scowl on my face, even as I felt the weight of their eyes, especially Paul's.

"Blue is Paul's Ethiopian Bull," John explained after a pause. I assumed he had waited to allow Paul time to answer, but clearly the big guy wasn't going to budge.

"Ethiopian Bulls are normally red, but Paul's is special," Johnny supplied helpfully, "because his is—"

"Let me guess, blue," I interrupted. "So a hedgehog stole a bull?"

"Echidna is the Mother of Monsters," Paul rumbled. I could tell he was annoyed even with most of his face hidden, and I realized I was kind of annoyed with myself. Now that Paul said it, I remembered who Echidna was. Percy told me the story of when he had met the woman in the St. Louis arch, fighting a Chimera and almost destroying a national monument in the process. I don't have much going for me, but at least I haven't broken the Statue of Liberty or something.

"Why would she do that?" I asked, trying to hide how stupid I felt. Paul just looked at me dismissively so Pecos took over the explanation.

"She's had this thing with Blue for years. Claims Blue is her pet, which is hogwash," Pecos explained, jabbing his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans. "Blue was a gift from Paul's father, Zeus."

I took a step back, looking at Paul in a whole new light. "Zeus is your dad?" I repeated in amazement. Paul nodded slowly. Well, that might explain some of the hostility.

In the olden days, children of the Big Three didn't get along very well as a matter of pride, or something. I never really quite understood why, but it was a pretty big deal. See the last two World Wars as proof. I'm glad that's not really a thing anymore, but apparently some of the ghosts have missed the memo.

I shook my head, there wasn't much use pushing the issue. Paul was going to be stubborn about it. Sure, I could have _made_ him work with me, but that's not the kind of person I want to be. "Okay, you guys go find Blue," I said, sitting down on the bed. "I'll wait for my actual room service and meditate, or something."

"Wait, Paul, Nico can help you," Pecos said, turning eagerly to Paul. Maybe Pecos was trying to crack through the ghost's prejudice; I didn't think it would work. Paul started to shake his head, but John interrupted him.

"Really, Paul, I've been training Nico. His powers have developed well and he is learning to control them," John explained, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"Nico is sitting right here," I said, scowling slightly. All the ghost eyes turned back to me and I swallowed. "I'll help you, but only if _you_ want me to," I said, returning the son of Zeus's stare squarely.

Paul scowled in return. He probably wasn't used to someone being so blunt to him, but if we were going to be working together, he was going to have to get used it. The silence was tense for a minute, before Johnny broke it.

"She'll be expecting _us_," he said quietly, tracing a design on the straw hat he now held in his hands. "She won't be expecting Nico."

"If she's the Mother of Monsters, she'll sense me," I tried to argue. I was stopped by John slowly shaking his head.

"Not if you're shadow walking," he said thoughtfully, a slow smile curling his lips as his eyes sparkled. "That is a good plan."

We were quiet, waiting for Paul to answer. Finally he harrumphed, which sounded like a mix between a lion roar and a cow mooing. I wondered if that was how he talked to Blue. "Fine, he can help," he said, glancing around at the other three ghosts before locking his eyes on me. "But we'll follow _my_ orders. Everyone got it?"

I shrugged slightly as everyone else nodded. I'm not entirely sure what he thought I might be planning, but the sooner we could get his cow, the sooner he'd leave us alone. After Paul made sure we all agreed, he cleared his throat. "Echidna's at her home in Chief Mountain, Montana."

We planned an attack. And by "we," I mean Paul and by "planned," I mean Paul told us what to do. So that was how I ended up scaling a mountain in the middle of winter. Fun times.

Kids, do _not_ try this at home.

After Paul told us the rough plan, we shadow-traveled to the base of the mountain, making a base camp on the south-west side, so we were sort of sheltered from the blowing snow. As it turned out, Chief Mountain looked like some giant had gotten a nice punch in the face, knocking out a tooth that wedged itself in the ground. The mountain was a giant rectangular formation that almost seemed isolated from the other mountains. Because of the sheer rock face, there weren't any plants growing on it, which meant the rugged mountain just had snow and ice covering for me to climb to scout out Echidna's home.

Sure I could have shadow-traveled to Echidna's lair, but remember I've said how hard it is to shadow travel to places I haven't been before? Yeah, well it's especially hard to do that when I'm worried about shadow-traveling right over a cliff. So, I would climb. Fun fact: apparently Echidna's home is called Arima, the couch of Typhoeus. Why? I have no idea.

Anyway, those were pretty much the thoughts that occupied my mind as I climbed Chief Mountain, trying not to think about how much it would hurt if I slipped and fell. I had cloaked myself in the shadows before I started walking, so that was at least something. When I was shadow walking, I didn't really feel the cold of the wind. I felt its force blowing against me, but it didn't feel cold. I guess as a shadow, stuff like hot and cold just didn't really matter. Also something else I noticed was the fact that it was easier to walk than I thought. I'm not that coordinated, but I didn't slip even once. For some reason the ice coating nearly every surface just didn't make me slip. I guess shadow walking gives me great traction. And so I climbed, ghosting over icy ledges and crags that would have made me quit and turn around on any normal day.

Finally I arrived at the last part of the trail. As hazardous as the snowy rock face had been before, now it got much more dangerous. I stopped, scowling at what was before me, a deep notch in the ground, about 10 feet long maybe, and I'm not sure how deep. And I could almost feel the presence of monsters down there. I couldn't risk stepping out of the shadows to get a better look, that would alert Echidna to my presence faster than anything. But how to get down there?

I sat down at the edge of the notch, scooting forward so my legs were over the edge. I nibbled a lip, subconsciously pulling the shadows tight around me as I looked down. It seemed like the only thing I could do would be to ease myself down. This made more sense than just jumping. I eased myself out over the edge of the hole until the only things keeping me from falling down into it were my arms. _Gods, I wish it was easier to see while I'm shadow walking,_ I thought frantically before I let myself drop.

I caught myself on a little ledge. And by catch myself, I mean my knees buckled as soon as I hit the thing. Wind-milling my arms, I pushed myself back against the rock face, standing there spread-eagle for a moment to let my heart find the right rhythm again. Looking above me, I saw I had dropped about six feet. The ledge I was standing on was about a foot wide and covered in snow, which explained why I didn't see it against the snow on the bottom of the hole. I looked around me, checking for more ledges. I found one to my left about four feet down.

Repeating the process, I slid down to that ledge, steadying myself before I found a new one. I did this about five more times until I reached the bottom of the notch. In addition to the snow in the hole, I also saw tiny animal bones and some not so tiny bones. I think I found the right place. Following the trail of bones, I walked along the bottom of the crevice until I found a cave entrance. _Here we go_, I thought, checking the shadows around me as I walked into the cave.

It was dark in there and even though most of my senses were muted, the smell was overpowering, like the smell of a zoo at lion feeding time. I carefully made my way deeper into the cave. The first thing I saw was a _giant_ bird nest, like the hotel room I was staying in could have fit comfortably inside.

And for such a big nest, there was a big bird that called it home and not the Sesame Street kind either. I gaped at the eagle, which just continued to sleep, breathing evenly. It was a beautiful creature with creamy wings that turned black at the tips. I could just make out its cruel beak, which looked like it might want to try human flesh if given the chance. I tried not to look too closely at the bones around its nest.

_Giant eagle, right, piece of cake_, I thought weakly, edging around the nest to head deeper into the cave. As I left the nest room, I started to hear a voice. At first it was hard to tell if it was a man's or a woman's voice, it was deep and throaty, but as I kept walking there was a hint of female in it. Yep, definitely a woman…thing. As soon as I came to that realization, I rounded a bend to see the person herself, Echidna.

She lounged on an over-stuffed leather couch that looked like it had been the receiving end of a puppy's teething phase, white fluff leaking out and spilling onto the floor. I couldn't tell what color the couch was as I shadow walked but I don't think I would have remembered it anyway because when I saw Echidna, it drove everything else from my mind.

She looked just as Percy had described her. She still wore a tight-fitting denim outfit that did not leave much to the imagination; her rolls of fat had rolls of fat. The couch sagged under her weight as she yelled at the television. From what I could tell from the noises, she was watching re-runs of the Battle of the Labyrinth on Hephaestus television. I winced slightly, the memories of that knocking me out of my disgusted stupor.

I walked forward into the room and froze again. I almost didn't see it when I first saw Echidna, but on her lapping sat a little shivering Chihuahua. _Great, the Chimera's here too_, I thought, remembering more of Percy's story. The jangling of the dog's tags making a nice counter-melody to Echidna yelling at the TV. _Now just to find Blue._ I didn't have to look much because I suddenly heard the saddest moo I had ever heard in my life. If you had asked me before now if I thought cows could moo sadly, I would have told you that you'd been spending too much time with Grover. But now…well.

I turned to look and I saw Blue. Even though I couldn't really tell colors when I shadow walked, I could still see a muted blue on the Ethiopian bull. Not only did she look the color blue, but Blue looked, uh, blue. Animals don't normally like me and so I normally give them their space; don't want to be ravaged by a kitten. Not that that's happened before. Anyway, even I couldn't help feeling sorry for her, she looked so sad. I quietly walked toward Blue, my hands raised in a calming gesture. I'm not sure if she could tell if I was there, but even so, it was best to be careful. Oh yeah, and she was huge, which I guess made sense after how large Paul Bunyan is.

Blue's nostrils flared as I got close and she mooed, this time a concerned, questioning, worried sound. Just call me the cow whisperer. The cow was tied to a metal ring by a rope which kept her in the corner of the room.

"Shush," I said, barely making a sound, checking the shadows wrapped around me. "I'm going to get you out of here," I told her quietly.

Blue shifted uncomfortably, but didn't make another sound. I guess being the companion of a ghost made her a bit more used to dead smelling stuff. I looked around the cavern, frowning. There was no way that eagle came in the same way I did and I couldn't see Echidna sliding down the snowy ledges of death, so there must be another entrance. But where?

There. I spotted it behind Echidna and her couch on the far side of the cave. "I'll be right back," I told Blue quietly before skirting around the edge of the cave-room, sticking as much to the shadows as I could, which wasn't too hard with the flickering television. I finally made it to the other side with no one the wiser, specifically Echidna, and it was down other dark hallway for me, although I could spot a light in the distance. After a 10 minute walk or so, I peeked out of the entrance, sticking my head into the blowing snow that I had almost come to miss. Almost.

Looking around me, I couldn't really see a way that Echidna and Blue could have climbed up there, it was a sheer drop down and there wasn't any approach from above either. Nor were they any helpful ledges like on the other entrance. So how on earth did the Mother of Monsters get up there? I blinked_. Duh, the eagle_. She probably used it as her evil taxi service. But that still left a problem of how we were going to get Blue down once we rescued her. Maybe the guys would figure that out once I reported in. I sighed and then shadow traveled back to base camp, happy to be out of the monster hole, at least for a little while.

Down at base camp, the ghosts were huddled under an overhang in the rock face. I think this was for my benefit; I don't think ghosts can really feel the cold. Once we had all settled, I pulled out my journal from my book bag (I had left it down there just so something stupid didn't happen to it while I was scouting, like getting stuck on a rock) and started to draw a rough sketch of the cave. It was _rough_.

"So there's the back entrance," I explained, pointing at it with my pencil. "That's where I entered from the trail I climbed up. The first thing I saw was this huge eagle in its nest."

"The Caucasian eagle," John Henry interrupted, looking at my drawing, his brow furrowed. "Another one of Echidna's children. It was responsible for eating Prometheus's liver. Hercules set Prometheus free, of course."

"Let's hope it doesn't want to try Nico liver instead," I muttered under my breath, glancing up as Pecos patted me reassuringly on the back. I looked around and caught Paul's eyes. He just glared, silently telling me to continue.

"Um, right," I said, picking up where I left off. "After the eagle room, there was Echidna's room. She was watching TV on her couch and she had the Chimera with her," I said, pointing out the spots of each on the map. "Blue was over here in the corner," I said. "The last thing is there was another entrance to the cave. It was a little bit of a walk, but the opening was wide, facing to the northeast, I think. Unfortunately, there's isn't a way to walk to that entrance, but I think that's how Echidna normally gets in and out."

Paul shifted slightly, stroking his beard as he thought. I leaned back, my bit done. Now to get told what to do by Mr. Grumpy Ghost. The other ghosts watched Paul, which after a moment; I realized was kind of strange. Was Paul their boss somehow or maybe he was just good at coming up with plans? Maybe it's because he was a son of Zeus and people tended to gravitate toward children of the Big Three who didn't reek of death.

I shook off the negative thoughts, not liking the feeling as my stomach twisted slightly, a voice whispering in my ear that I could be respected, feared as well. "This is what we're going to do. We'll charge from the back door to get Echidna distracted from that end," Paul said eventually, looking at the other three ghosts. "Once Echidna leaves that room, you get Blue to the main entrance."

"What do I do with her after that?" I interrupted.

"You wait there," Paul said, scowling. I wondered if he could make any other facial expressions. "Once we settle everything, we'll be out to get you."

"You're going to take down Echidna, the Chimera, and the Caucasian eagle all by yourselves?" I asked, unable to decide if I should be impressed or worried.

"You might find it surprising, Ghost King, but we've handle everything in the West just fine for years," Paul snapped.

"Paul, that's not necessary," John said. Even though his voice was quiet, he stopped Paul from saying anything else. I met Paul's eyes stubbornly. The guy was worried I was stealing his turf, was that the problem? Was he worried he would get shown up by a kid? I rolled my eyes, breaking eye contact and looking away first. I had bigger things to worry about than a territorial ghost.

Paul didn't comment, didn't even look at John or any of the others, he just looked at me; I could nearly feel his eyes boring into me. "And whatever you do, don't come out of the shadows," he finally said.

I blinked once and realized he was talking about the plan again. "Duh," I muttered, crossing my arms without realizing it, "if I do, she'll sense me in an instant and we'll have bigger things to worry about."

"Good, remember that." Paul nodded, finally looking away to gesture to the other ghosts to pack up and get ready for the attack. "Move at Pecos's signal," Paul ordered after me as I was about to shadow travel to the front entrance of the cave.

"What's his signal?" I shot back crossly.

Pecos answered. "You'll know it when you hear it!" he said, spinning one of his pistols before sliding it back into its holster.

I rolled my eyes as I shadow-traveled away; count on Pecos to make a ruckus. I stepped out of the shadows, but not completely out, keeping some shadows wrapped around me so Echidna couldn't sense me. I was at the big entrance to the cave, the wind whistling across the entrance. I wondered idly how such a large hole in the side of the mountain could have been missed by the mortals as I waited, leaning against the cave wall. The wind whistled across the entrance but none of the snowflakes entered the cave. _Must be some barrier created by the Mist_, I decided, before jerking my head to look deep in the cave. A sound like a gunshot echoed against the rock walls. From what Pecos said earlier, I'm very sure it was a gunshot, and that was my signal.

Jogging as quietly as possible into the cave, I found the couch room, the sounds of battle growing louder as I moved. Quickly looking over the scene, I moved to the left to get Blue. The Chimera was yapping away, still in tiny dog form and running circles around Echidna as the giant woman bellowed, lumbering back to where the eagle nest was. Blue mooed quietly, whites around her eyes showing, as if she wanted to cry louder, but didn't want to make too much noise.

Reaching Blue, I frantically tried to untie the knot that kept her attached to the little metal ring on the wall. _Come on, come on, come on_, I thought as my hands scrambled over the knot. It was harder to grab things while I was shadow walking, I discovered right then. _Styx_, I thought, adding a couple other creative swears before drawing my Stygian blade. I knew that would work at least, remembering my fight with Brandon.

Blue did not like that, letting out a panicked moo and jerking back. Even if an animal is used to the dead, something straight from the Underworld like Stygian iron would still scare them. "Please be quiet," I hissed, sawing at the rope quickly. My sword was sharp, but that rope was just not cutting. I distantly wondered if the rope was made of something other than regular rope, but with Blue tugging to get away from my sword, Echidna wailing in the background, and me trying to cut the rope without cutting off Blue's head, I was a bit distracted. Then the rope snapped.

_Yes_, I thought, grabbing onto the loose end and tugging Blue toward the main entrance of the cave and away from the noise of fighting. I didn't get very far, though.

"My baby!" I heard a voice yell, surprising me as it echoed around the room. I whipped around, trying to figure out what was going on. From across the room, I could see Echidna looking straight at Blue and me. "Someone's trying to steal my baby! Get 'em, Sonny!"

The evil Chihuahua was off, darting across the room toward me. "Come on, Blue, let's go," I said, just remembering to keep my voice low as I tugged at the rope, but Blue seemed to be at her limit, resisting my pull.

Suddenly I was knocked over by something that was much less a Chihuahua and much more a Chimera in all its lion-y, goat-y, snake-y glory. Surprised, I tumbled with the attacking Chimera, losing my hold on my shadows as well as Blue's rope. Turns out I'm still solid enough to get attacked by something when I'm shadow walking. Good to know.

As soon as the shadows fell off me, Echidna screeched again. "Demigod! Sonny, kill him!" And I had no doubt that the Chimera would carry out Echidna's orders.

I shoved the Chimera, knocking it off its feet as it was still unsteady from attacking me and I quickly got back to my feet, shifting into a ready position that John Henry had taught me, ready for the next attack. I distantly felt Blue lumber away, heading toward what I hoped was the main entrance as I watched the Chimera. One less thing to worry about.

It paced back and forth in front of me, lion head snarling, but it was too wary to attack when I had a Stygian blade. "Come on, mama's boy," I said, jumping forward for a feint before pulling back. "Bring it."

Sonny brought it. The lion's mouth opened in what I thought was going to be another growl but then a fire erupted from its mouth.

"What?" I gasped as I jumped aside, part of my sleeve catching on fire. I rolled a couple times on the ground to put out the flames. "Did I know you could do that?" I asked, quickly getting back to my feet with enough time to block the Chimera's swipe at me with a giant paw.

"Good, Sonny, barbeque the son of Hades!" Echidna called over the noises of battle.

I hoped the ghosts were having better luck than I was as I danced away from another vicious paw swipe. The Chimera's fur was thick, it's lion-like mane and tough hide would make it hard to get a cut in, not to mention the fire-breathing. And the venomous snake for a tail. Echidna was called Mother of Monsters for a reason. My mind worked frantically. The armpits were normally a good place to attack, but that would mean getting under it. The mouth might be a good place, but there was still the whole fire-breathing problem to get through. Suddenly, a loud keening erupted over the echoing of the cave.

"My eagle!" Echidna cried, wavering as if wanting to run to check on the Caucasian eagle and wanting to stay and watch the Chimera's fight with me. That question was solved when a troupe of four ghosts marched into the main room from the room formerly housing the Caucasian eagle.

Everyone froze in surprise as Paul separated himself from the group to glare at Echidna. The Chimera gave a little whine-bleat-hiss sound, looking worriedly at its mother. "Your eagle is dead," Paul rumbled, eyes solely on the Mother of Monsters. "Give me back Blue." The unspoken ultimatum was clear. _Or else._

Echidna snarled, looking like a monster herself, which she was. "Sonny! Stop holding back! Kill them all!" she bellowed, rushing toward the ghosts herself. By "kill," I assumed she meant me, considering I'm the only one that can die of the group, but I didn't really have time to think that over as the Chimera charged me again.

Dodging to the side, I slashed at its face but missed. A flame bubbled in its throat and I ducked. _What could I do?_ I thought frantically. _Stop running_, a voice whispered in the back of my mind and instead of my next move being another dodge to sidestep the fire, I charged forward, yanking my Nemean Lion coat up to cover my face as I ran into the stream of fire, looking for the source.

Getting as close as I could bear, I then ducked down, bringing my knife out before cutting straight up, standing up with my jab to give it extra power. My blade dug itself deep into the chin of the Chimera, cutting off its spurt of fire as it choked. It seemed to blink in surprise as I twisted the blade, grinning savagely in triumph. It tugged weakly once, trying to pull itself free, but then I pulled my knife out, letting it slump to the ground. Its soul left for the Styx as the rest of it started to dissolve.

The room was quiet again as everyone stared before a ragged gasp broke the silence. "Sonny," Echidna wailed, her form shifting as I looked at her. She didn't look so much like an obese woman in a tight jean get-up, now looked more like an obese serpiente. "Die, boy," she hissed, making a beeline to me.

I laughed and ran to meet her. _I could take the giant snake lady, no sweat. People should learn _not_ to mess with me_, I thought as I jumped to tackle her. I should have realized that something as big as her wouldn't really be affected by me landing on her, she barely lost any speed as I made contact. That was alright. I got a grip on her as her arms wrapped around me. I could already feel the snake like part coiling around my lower half, starting to squeeze.

"Too slow," I said, ducking into the shadows and stepping out just beyond her reach. She hissed but I darted up, slinging an arm around her shoulder to swing around the monster and land on her back, my knife sliding into place next to her neck. "Now," I quietly as she froze, "this can either be fast or slow, it depends on my mood," I informed her, a smirk playing on my lips as the adrenaline and killer instinct rushed through my veins. This would be good.

"Nico, don't!" Pecos said, taking a step forward but stopping when I glared at him.

"You can't tell me what to do," I answered, faintly wondering what the ghosts looked so scared about.

"Nico, she does not need to die," Paul rumbled, his face unreadable. "We have Blue, we can go."

I blinked frantically, feeling like I was struggling to breathe. That's right, Blue, the cow. That's why we were here. That was important once, why didn't it seem important now? "I have something better to do," I said, turning my attention back to Echidna.

Out of nowhere came a great blue wall of cow as Blue knocked me off Echidna, my blade tumbling from my hand as I rolled away from the Mother of Monsters. The ghosts rushed forward, forming a line with Blue to separate me from Echidna. I'm not sure if that was for my protection or hers.

"Leave now, Echidna," John Henry said, voice all business as if nothing had happened. Echidna hissed something in a language I didn't understand before she left, traveling in the way that monsters travel.

I missed most of that as I stared at my trembling hands, my mind blank. What had just happened? That felt so much like me, but it wasn't me? I shuddered in confusion, wrapping my arms around myself as I curled into a ball. What was happening to me? I couldn't tell the difference between me and this curse anymore. "Oh gods," I whispered.

The ghosts turned slowly to face me, Johnny and Pecos moving to my side, Johnny taking a comfortable position next to me, Pecos slinging an arm over my shoulder.

"It's stronger," John Henry noted after a long pause. I nodded weakly and blinked, noticing Paul nodding as well.

"So, that's what it is," he said quietly, almost as if thinking aloud. "I had felt…"

I buried my head in my arms. This felt horrible and it scared me. True, Echidna was terrible, a monster, but she didn't deserve to be tortured like I would have done if the ghosts didn't stop me. We had done our mission and that was it, but the urge had wanted more and I wasn't strong enough to tell it no, to even realize I needed to. I had to get stronger, but what if I couldn't get strong enough?

I _had_ to be strong enough.

Abruptly standing up, I met John Henry's eyes fiercely. The ghosts all started as if expecting me to cackle like a mad man, releasing the full power of the Ghost King, which given my recent track record would not have been surprising. No, I would not be ruled by this.

"John," I said stubbornly, "I swear to you, I'm going to do this. I'm not going to give up; I'm not going to be afraid. This isn't going to win. Help me."

I looked at each of the ghosts. Pecos gave me a firm nod, offering me a proud smile. Johnny raised his hand in a thumbs-up, peaceful smile on his face as if he didn't expect any different. Paul, I couldn't tell what he was thinking.

John Henry looked at me sternly. "It'll be a lot of work, you know that now."

"Yes, sir," I said, "but I'm going to do it."

"Good," he said, smiling before clapping a hand on my back.

"Great," Pecos said, getting back to his feet. "Well, we've got Blue," he said, pointing to the cow that had come over to nuzzle Paul affectionately. "I guess we head back to the hotel?"

I nodded, rueful smile on my face as I rubbed my stomach. "Yeah, I'm hungry."

"I would like to come with you," Paul interrupted.

"You would?" Johnny asked.

"Why?" I asked in turn.

Paul scratched Blue's head for a moment before answering. "Blue likes you," he said as if this explained everything. I blinked in surprise. Well then, it was good to be liked by a cow and from the look in Paul's eyes, I suspected that maybe he had come to like me too. Or at least give me a chance.

* * *

Author's Note: Hello everyone! I'm so so sorry that it took me so long to get this posted. Nico was being grumpy this chapter which made it hard to write. The good news is, though, that I think there's only three or four more chapters until this puppy is finished. Get excited, friends. Thank you for your continued support and for your favoriting/following/reviewing! It is all very much appreciated and inspires me to finish this story!


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